The First Theodore R. Cogswell Megapack

by Theodore R. Cogswell

  It was the ‘and’ that did it. He suddenly realized that he couldn’t finish the sentence. The passage of a century hadn’t changed New York. It was still cluttered with the once greats, the burned-out rockets who had made a single spectacular flight twenty or thirty years before, and had never gone up again.

  If he wanted it, there was always the place at the bar and the free drinks—tourists were kind—and the talk about the time when the critics would suddenly discover that the old writing was best after all. If he wanted it…but he suddenly realized that he didn’t. Here he was somebody. Here there were people who would listen with respect while he told of John Grodnick and the rest.

  “Dear Ladies,” he said with a note of honest pleasure in his voice, “I can’t tell you how good it is to be back in Kansas.”

  LOVER BOY

  Sheldon’s thin aristocratic face reflected a mixture of defiance, despair and horror, as he stood in the center of the housekeeper’s sitting room and looked down at the fat woman sprawled out on the worn divan.

  “I’ll do anything you say,” he said. “Anything but that! I’ll…I’ll set up a trust fund so that you’ll never have to worry about money again as long as you live. But I won’t kill her. I love her. Can’t you understand that? I love her!”

  Mrs. Higgens looked up at him contemptuously. “Love!” she snorted. “That’s a laugh. You knock off her old man so you can marry her and get your mitts on his money, and now you go soft and start talking about love. It’s no soap, lover boy, you belong to me and nobody else. You’re going to feed her enough champagne at the wedding supper so that she gets good and loaded, and then you’re going to see that she accidentally falls off the bedroom balcony while she’s out getting a breath of fresh air. That’s the way it’s going to be. Period! You see?”

  “I’ll kill myself first!”

  Mrs. Higgens popped another chocolate in her mouth, sucked on it noisily, then drawled, “It’s a nice idea, lover boy, but let’s face it—you just ain’t got the guts. And since you haven’t, there’s nothing you can do but what I tell you, when I tell you, the way I tell you. You’re mine, little man —until I get tired of you or death doth us part.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, as if she knew the chain of thought her last words had triggered inside his head.

  “And it better be your death that does the parting, lover boy, not mine. I know, with the kind of dough you’re going to have after the wedding, it wouldn’t be too hard for you to arrange an accident…” She let her voice trail off, then gave a nasty chuckle. “If it wasn’t for that package of evidence I got tucked away where you’ll, never find it. Your story about old man Arnett busting his head falling downstairs wouldn’t be worth spit if the police got their hands on my signed statement and a blood-stained poker with your fingerprints on it. Just don’t forget that, and we’ll get along fine.”

  She waved one pudgy hand in a gesture of dismissal. “You’d better go down and find your little Virginia. She’ll be wondering what happened to you.” She sighed and leaned back luxuriously. “But first give me a little kiss to tide me over till evening.” Her voice sharpened. “And kiss me as if you meant it!”

  Sheldon was seized with a momentary fit of obstinacy. “The nights are bad enough,” he said. “At least you can leave me alone during the day.”

  “Lover boy!”

  It was only a whisper, but it held a quality of command that caused him to stiffen convulsively, as if a flying stiletto had suddenly pierced him between the shoulder blades. With a wretched attempt at an affectionate smile, he walked woodenly over and knelt beside her.

  “That’s better, lover boy,” she crooned as she drew him down to her. “This is the way it’s going to be with us—for ever and ever.”

  * * * *

  As Sheldon walked down the back stairs from the servants’ quarters to where Virginia was waiting, he found himself fingering a business card in his jacket pocket. Every word of the prediction whispered by the small, dark man who had accosted him after the funeral was coming true. Every single word.

  He pulled the card out for the tenth time and looked at it. On it were a neatly engraved name and address—DeWitt Norman, Room 427 Temple Building—but as he stared reflectively at the oblong white cardboard, two words, written in a strange archaic script, suddenly appeared and then just as suddenly vanished.

  DEATH INSURANCE

  * * * *

  Mr. Norman looked quite human…except for his eyes. They glowed with a strange ruby-like fire in the semi-darkness of his dimly lighted office.

  “She’s a monster,” said Sheldon, “a demon—a succubus who’s fastened onto me and won’t let go. Her flabby body is bad enough, but what’s inside is worse. I look into her eyes and see crawling things leering out at me. I listen to that croaking voice whispering obscene suggestions in the night and…” His hands moved as if they were gripping a fat neck, then fell helplessly to his sides. “Sometimes I think she’s possessed!”

  Mr. Norman grinned. Sheldon noticed something odd about his teeth. They were more pointed than they had any right to be. “In her case, it hasn’t been necessary,” he said. “She’s been doing such an effective job all by herself that she hasn’t needed any inside help. That’s not the immediate point, however. You obviously came to see me about something more concrete than a mere discussion of the villainous nature of the late Mr. Anrett’s housekeeper. Right?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did,” said Sheldon slowly. “I’ve had a strange feeling that you might…er…help me.” He seemed to be having trouble formulating his words.

  “By removing this female?” asked Mr. Norman helpfully. “Why, of course. That’s my business. You’d be surprised at the number of amateurs who come to me for help in tidying up jobs they’ve botched. And yours, if you don’t mind my saying so, was a singularly clumsy affair. Permitting a servant to wander in, right in the middle of your operation, then letting her get away with a piece of such incriminating evidence as the murder weapon—really!”

  “How was I to know she was watching?” Sheldon burst out. He stopped suddenly, his eyes widening. “How did you know about that?” he demanded hoarsely.

  “The usual way. The home office supplies us with leads on prospective clients, and I got a routine notice on you the day after Mr. Arnett’s unfortunate…accident. But as my client —” his voice seemed to italicize the word—“you may rely on my discretion just as you would upon that of your doctor or lawyer. Ours is an extremely ethical profession, you know. It has to be. But back to business.” He gave Sheldon a calculating look. “You do want to go on with this, don’t you?”

  Sheldon gulped and nodded.

  “Good,” said Mr. Norman. “If we can agree on the details now, I’ll draw up a policy and send it directly to the home office for approval. It should be ready for your signature by tomorrow.” He tapped the desk top thoughtfully with long tapered fingers. “Ordinarily, I would recommend what is often incorrectly referred to as an Act of God—something like a bolt of lightning or a small twister—but in this case, the party you are concerned with has been clever enough to protect herself against such obvious measures. Her death would immediately insure yours, since that package of incriminating evidence would be forwarded to the police at once.”

  “Couldn’t you just arrange to have the package destroyed?” Sheldon suggested

  Mr. Norman shook his read regretfully. “It wouldn’t be ethical. The president of the bank that has custody of the package is also a client of mine. No, what is needed is a procedure that will keep Mrs. Higgens alive and, at the same time, helpless.”

  “And the price?” asked Sheldon uneasily.

  “We can discuss that later. It’s the problem that interests me. Let me think about it a moment.”

  A long silence followed.

  “Got it!” said the small dark man suddenly.

  “Remember, she’s got to remain alive!”

  “I know that; she will. But once I
’ve decanted her, the fat creature you know as Mrs. Higgens could be written off as a threat.”

  “Once you’ve what?”

  “Decanted her. I believe the vulgar refer to the process as soul-snatching. If the soul is removed skillfully from its container—”

  “Container?”

  “Body, if you prefer,” said Mr. Norman patiently. “If properly decanted, the body will remain alive, but that’s all. Your overweight courtesan will be an empty, mindless husk —but not dead. As long as she isn’t, by your own admission, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Sounds good,” said Sheldon thoughtfully. “Excellent, in fact. But to get back to the matter of price…” He tried to look squarely into the dark man’s eyes, but found he couldn’t. There was a strange magnetic quality in the dull red glowing orbs that gave him the feeling he was being sucked out of himself.

  “Let’s get back to the price,” he said at last. “If the old tales are true, it may be more than I can afford to pay.”

  “The price is the usual one,” said Mr. Norman. “But you must remember that most of the stories you’ve heard originated with a handful of malcontents. Anyway,” he added quickly, “billing you for the premium is obviously only a technicality. You must be aware that your unauthorized and premeditated liquidation of your employer has already given the home office a permanent lien on your future services. Why not get something out of the deal?”

  The more Sheldon thought about it, the more he wavered. The dark man waited until the opportune moment and then, with the skill of an experienced salesman, added, “I might even be able to toss in something extra.”

  “Huh? Such as?” asked Sheldon cautiously.

  “I haven’t made my quota yet this month. Just to keep the home office off my neck, I might be willing to throw in an extra wish. The standard policy calls for only one to the insuring party, but if you’ll agree to close the deal within the next forty-eight hours, I’ll toss in another absolutely free. That way, you’ll be able to take care of Mrs. Higgens with the first one and still have one left over for anything else your heart desires.”

  “Forty-eight hours doesn’t give me much time to think it over,” Sheldon complained unhappily.

  “More than you need,” answered Mr. Norman. “You’re getting married tomorrow afternoon. Right? And I believe Mrs. Higgens has certain plans for the disposal of your bride shortly after the ceremony. Miss Arnett is a pleasant little morsel and it would be a shame to lose her.”

  Sheldon was in obvious agreement with the last statement. “That second wish,” he said, “did you say I could have anything I wanted?”

  “Well,” said the dark man slowly, “almost anything. Let’s say anything that isn’t under direct control of our heavenly competitors. As long as your wish doesn’t directly violate one of the divine ordinances, we can give it to you.”

  “One more thing… I’m naturally concerned about when payment will have to be made.”

  “At the usual time—on your death bed.”

  Sheldon hesitated and looked at Mr. Norman dubiously. “You seem to specialize in accidents. What’s to keep you from arranging a fatal one for me in the near future?”

  The dark man seemed shocked at the suggestion.

  “You apparently have no idea of the ethics of my profession,” he said coldly. “But if it will make you any happier, I’ll give you my word that neither I nor any member of my organization will do anything, directly or indirectly, to hasten your death.”

  “Can I have that in writing?” asked Sheldon cannily.

  “Certainly.” Mr. Norman still looked hurt. “I’ll even inert a clause to the effect that the whole agreement becomes null and void in case of any breach of contract on our part. Now, does that satisfy you?”

  “I’ll have to think about it a bit more,” said Sheldon, as he rose to go. He paused at the door. “In case I decide to…to take out a policy with your company, how can I get in touch with you?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” said the dark man. “When you need me, I’ll be there.”

  * * * *

  Sheldon tapped lightly on the dressing room door. “I have to step out for a moment, Virginia. I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “Don’t be long, darling,” a soft voice whispered from the other side. “I’m almost ready.”

  He stepped into the hallway and shut the bedroom door securely behind him. Mr. Norman wasn’t late. There was a slight shimmer in the air, and he stood before Sheldon.

  “Did you bring the policy?”

  The dark man nodded and snapped his fingers. A glowing piece of parchment materialized in the air in front of them.

  “All complete, except for your formal agreement.”

  Now that the moment had arrived, Sheldon felt a sudden desire to temporize. If he had miscalculated, if just one little thing went wrong, he was lost. As he thought of the consequences, his courage began to drain from him.

  “Perhaps we’d better wait until morning,” he said in a hesitant voice.

  “It wouldn’t be wise,” said Mr. Norman. “The fat one is sitting in her room, watching the clock. It’s already half an hour past the appointed time for the accident. She is mad with jealousy and if, during the night, her passion should overcome her self-interest, she might give orders for that package to be sent to the police. Unless you act now, it may be too late.”

  The man was right. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He took a deep breath and managed to force out two words.

  “I agree.”

  As he spoke, his signature appeared in letters of fire on the bottom of the parchment that was hanging in front of him.

  “Your first wish?”

  “Mrs. Higgens. You know what to do. Be quick about it!”

  The dark man gave a sardonic salaam and disappeared.

  A few seconds later, he was back again.

  “The decanting is complete. The fat one is alive, but nothing looks out through her eyes.”

  Sheldon let out a shuddering sigh as the weight that had been oppressing him for so long seemed to slide off his shoulders. He stood in silence for a moment, savoring the champagne bouquet taste of freedom.

  “And your second?” said the dark man. “Have you thought of what it will be?”

  Sheldon nodded slowly.

  “Good. You might as well make it now, so I can have the home office get to work on it. If you want to be world dictator or something like that, they’ll need a little advance notice. Even with their tremendous resources, things like that take time, you know. What is it—power?”

  “No, with the Arnett millions, I already have that,” Sheldon said firmly.

  “Wisdom, perhaps?”

  “That can be bought, also. I want one thing that money can’t buy.”

  “And that is?”

  A blaze kindled in Sheldon’s eyes that almost matched that in the dark man’s.

  “Immortality!”

  He waited, but felt no change take place within himself. “Now!” he cried impatiently. The dark man spread both hands forward, palms up in an apologetic gesture. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that is one thing I can’t grant now. You should have asked for it before the marriage ceremony.”

  Sheldon fought for control, as he felt himself being sucked into the quicksand of sudden panic and despair.

  “But…” he barely whispered. “But you said…

  “I said the home office had control over all matters except those coming under celestial jurisdiction”

  “What’s all that got to do with denying me immortality?” There was a note of desperation in Sheldon’s voice.

  “Marriage is a divine sacrament,” said the little man unctuously. “Surely, you remember the part of the service in which it is said, ‘Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.’ ”

  “But you’re not a man!” Sheldon objected.

  “It’s all a matter of definition,” said Mr. Norman. “And unfortunately, in the
case of McGinty vs Molach, it was decided that for actuarial purposes, the term man was to be construed to include all sentient beings except currently bona fide residents of the celestial regions. The home office fought the case all the way up to the highest authority, but the original decision was sustained. It was the first time in the history of our organization that the underwriters were unable to collect the premium due on an issued policy.”

  “I still don’t get it,” said Sheldon.

  “You should—it’s really quite simple. To grant you immortality and leave your wife mortal would be the surest way of tearing your marriage apart. For a few years, things would be fine, but what about afterward? When the years begin to erode Virginia’s beauty, what then? How long would she be able to stand the contrast between your youth and her age? And how long would you?”

  “That would be our affair, not yours.”

  “I’m afraid the authorities would take a different view. They would be sure to hold that my original action was the primary cause of the eventual sundering. Sorry, Sheldon, but you’ll have to think of something else.”

  He gave a lecherous wink. “How would you like to be Casanova’s successor?”

  “Not interested. The only woman I want is waiting for me in there.” He gestured toward the bedroom.

  “Then, how about—”

  “No!” interrupted Sheldon savagely. “I don’t want anything else. Give me a chance to think, will you!”

  He rubbed his knuckles against his temples, as if somehow the action would speed up the thought. Immortality was the only thing that would save him, but—‘let no man put asunder.’ However, if she were immortal also…of course!

  There was no spectacular show, only a rippling sense of vitality that tingled momentarily through every nerve cell in his body.

  “It’s done?”

  The dark man plucked the parchment out of the air and put it away carefully in his inside coat pocket.

  “It’s done. Neither of you can ever know physical death. A clever solution to your dilemma, Mr. Sheldon, an extremely clever solution. May I congratulate you on it?”