[Illustration] Illustrated by Bernklau THE BIG FIX BY GEORGE O. SMITH _Anyone who holds that telepathy and psi powers would mean an end to crime quite obviously underestimates the ingenuity of the human race. Now consider a horserace that_ had _to be fixed . .. _ It was April, a couple of weeks before the Derby. We were playing poker, which is a game of skill that has nothing to do with the velocity ofhorse meat. Phil Howland kept slipping open but he managed to close up before Icould tell whether the combination of Three-Five-Two-Four meant a fullhouse of fives over fours or whether he was betting on an open-endedstraight that he hadn't bothered to arrange in order as he held them. The Greek was impenetrable; he also blocked me from reading the deck sothat I could estimate his hand from the cards that weren't dealt out. Chicago Charlie's mind was easy to read but no one could trust him. Hewas just as apt to think high to score someone out as he was to thinklow to suck the boys in. As for me, there I was, good old Wally Wilson, holding a pat straight flush from the eight to the queen of diamonds. Iwas thinking "full house" but I was betting like a weak three of a kind. It was a terrific game. Between trying to read into these other guy'sbrains and keeping them from opening mine, and blocking the Greek's slystunt of tipping over the poker chips as a distraction, I was alsoconcerned about the eight thousand bucks that was in the pot. Thetrouble was that all four of us fully intended to rake it in. Mystraight flush would be good for the works in any normal game with wildcards, but the way this bunch was betting I couldn't be sure. PhilHowland didn't have much of a shield but he could really read, and if heread me--either my mind or my hand--he'd automatically radiate and thatwould be that. I was about at the point of calling for the draw when the door openedwithout any knock. It was Tomboy Taylor. We'd been so engrossed with oneanother that none of us had caught her approach. The Greek looked up at her and swore something that he hadn't read inPlato. "Showdown, " he said, tossing in his hand. I grunted and spread my five beauties. Phil growled and shoved the pot in my direction, keeping both eyes onTomboy Taylor. She was something to keep eyes on, both figuratively and literally. Theonly thing that kept her from being a thionite dream was the Pittsburghstogie that she insisted upon smoking, and the only thing that kept herfrom being some man's companion in spite of the stogie was the fact thathe'd have to keep his mouth shut or she'd steal his back teeth--if notfor fillings, then for practice. "You, Wally Wilson, " she said around the cigar, "get these grifters outof here. I got words. " The Greek growled. "Who says?" "Barcelona says. " I do not have to explain who Barcelona is. All I have to say is thatPhil Howland, The Greek, and Chicago Charlie arose without a word andfiled out with their minds all held tight behind solid shields. * * * * * I said, "What does Barcelona want with me?" Tomboy Taylor removed the stogie and said evenly, "Barcelona wants tosee it Flying Heels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace next month. " When I got done gulping I said, "You mean Barcelona wants me to fix theKentucky Derby?" "Oh no, " she replied in a very throaty contralto that went with herfigure and her thousand dollars worth of simple skirt and blouse. "Youneedn't 'Fix' anything. Just be sure that it's Flying Heels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace in that order. One, two, three. Do I make Barcelona quiteclear?" I said, "Look, Tomboy, neither of them platers can even _run_ that far, let alone running ahead. " "Barcelona says they can. And will. " She leaned forward and stubbed outthe Pittsburgh stogie and in the gesture she became wholly beautiful aswell as beautifully wholesome. As she leaned toward me she unfogged thelighter surface of her mind and let me dig the faintly-leaking conceptthat she considered me physically attractive. This did not offend me. Tothe contrary it pleased my ego mightily until Tomboy Taylor deliberatelylet the barrier down to let me read the visual impression--whichincluded all of the implications contained in the old cliché: ". .. Anddon't he look nacheral?" "How, " I asked on the recoil, "can I fix the Derby?" "Barcelona says you know more about the horse racing business than anyother big time operator in Chicago, " she said smoothly. "Barcelona saysthat he doesn't know anything about horse racing at all, but he hasgreat faith in your ability. Barcelona says that if anybody can make itFlying Heels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace, one, two, and three, WallyWilson is the man who can do it. In fact, Barcelona will be terriblydisappointed if you can't. " I eyed her carefully. She was a composed and poised beauty who lookedentirely incapable of uttering such words. I tried to peer into hermind but it was like trying to read the fine print of a telephonedirectory through a knitted woolen shawl. She smiled at me, her shapelylips curving graciously. I said, "Barcelona seems to have a lot of confidence in my ability toarrange things. " With those delicate lips still curved sweetly, she said, "Barcelona iswilling to bet money on your ability as a manager. " At this point Tomboy Taylor fished another Pittsburgh stogie out of herhundred dollar handbag, bit off the end with a quick nibble of even, pearly-white teeth, and stuffed the cigar in between the arched lips. She scratched a big kitchen match on the seat of her skirt after raisingone shapely thigh to stretch the cloth. She puffed the stogie into lightand became transformed from a beauty into a hag. My mind swore; it waslike painting a mustache on the Mona Lisa. Out of the corner of her mouth she replied to my unspoken question: "Ithelps to keep grippers like you at mind's length. " Then she left me alone with my littered card table and the eightthousand buck final pot--_and_ the unhappy recollection that Barcelonahad gotten upset at something Harold Grimmer had done, and he'd goneinto Grimmer's place and busted Grimmer flat by starting with one lousybuck and letting it ride through eighteen straight passes. This feat ofskill was performed under the mental noses of about eight operatorstrained to exert their extrasensory talents toward the defeat ofsharpshooters who tried to add paraphysics to the laws of chance. * * * * * Lieutenant Delancey of the Chicago police came in an hour later. Herefused my offer of a drink, and a smoke, and then because I didn't wavehim to a chair he crossed my living room briskly and eased himself intomy favorite chair. I think I could have won the waiting game but theprize wasn't good enough to interest me in playing. So I said, "O. K. , lieutenant, what am I supposed to be guilty of?" His smile was veiled. "You're not guilty of anything, so far as I know. " "You're not here to pass the time of day. " "No, I'm not. I want information. " "What kind of information?" "One hears things, " he said vaguely. "Lieutenant, " I said, "you've been watching one of those halluscenewhodunit dramas where everybody stands around making witty sayingscomposed of disconnected phrases. You'll next be saying 'Evil Lurks InThe Minds Of Men, ' in a sepulchral intonation. Let's skip it, huh? Whatkind of things does one hear and from whom?" "It starts with Gimpy Gordon. " "Whose mind meanders. " He shrugged. "Gimpy Gordon's meandering mind is well understood for whatit is, " he said. "But when it ceases to meander long enough to follow asingle train of thought from beginning to logical end, then something isup. " "Such as what, for instance. " The lieutenant leaned back in my easy-chair and stared at the ceiling. "Wally, " he said, "I was relaxing in the car with Sergeant Hollidaydriving. We passed a certain area on Michigan near Randolph and I caughtthe strong mental impression of someone who--in this day and age, mindyou--had had the temerity to pickpocket a wallet containing twenty-sevendollars. The sum of twenty-seven dollars was connected with the factthat the rewards made the risk worth taking; there were distinctimpressions of playing that twenty-seven bucks across the board on threevery especial nags at the Derby. The impression of the twenty-sevenbucks changed into a mental vision of a hand holding a sack of peanuts. There was indecision. Should he take more risk and run up his availablecash to make a larger killing, or would one Joseph Barcelona take astand-offish attitude if some outsider were to lower the track odds bybetting a bundle on Flying Heels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace. " I said, "Lieutenant, you've a pickpocket to jug. Horse betting islegal. " "Since wagering on the speed of a horse has been redefined as 'Thepurchase of one corporate share to be valid for one transaction only andredeemable at a par value to be established by the outcome of thisaforesaid single transaction, ' horse betting is legal. This makes you an'Investment Counselor, short-term transactions only, ' and removes fromyou the odious nomenclature of 'Bookie. ' However, permit me to point outthat the buying and selling of shares of horseflesh does not grant alicense to manipulate the outcome. " "You sound as though you're accusing me of contemplating a fix. " "Oh no. Not that. " "Then what?" "Wally, Flying Heels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace were refused by theNational Association Of Dog Food Canners because of their substandardhealth. If I'm not mistaken, the Derby Association should have to runthe race early that Saturday afternoon. " "Early?" "Uh-huh. Early. Y'see, Wally, the blue laws of the blue grass state makeit illegal to run horseraces on Sunday, hence the start of the Derbymust be early enough to let our three platers complete the race beforemidnight. " "Lieutenant, there still stands a mathematical probability that--" "That the rest of the field will catch the Martian Glanders as they leadour three dogs past the clubhouse turn?" "Lieutenant, you are wronging me. " "I haven't said a thing. " "Then why have you come here to bedevil me, lieutenant? If Barcelona hasideas of arranging a fix--" "If Barcelona has such notions, Wally Wilson would know about it. " "Everybody, " I said, "entertains notions of cleaning up a bundle byhaving the hundred-to-one shot come in by a length. Even Barcelona musthave wild dreams now and then--" "Come off it, " he snapped. "Something's up and I want to know what'scooking. " * * * * * "Lieutenant, you're now asking me to describe to you how someone mightrig the Kentucky Derby in a world full of expert telepaths andperceptives and manipulators, a large number of which will be ratherwell-paid to lend their extrasensory power to the process of keeping theDerby pure. " He eyed me sourly. "Remember, 'Fireman' O'Leary?" "That's an unfair allegation, " I replied. "The rumor that he started theChicago Fire is absolutely unfounded. " "As I recall, 'Fireman' O'Leary came by his nickname about one hundredyears after the holocaust that started on DeKoven Street in 1871. Itseems that 'Fireman' O'Leary was most useful in helping the fillies homeat Washington Park by assaulting them in the region of the bangtail withsmall bollops of pure incandescence. He was a pyrotic. " "That is a false accusation--" "It was never proved, " admitted the lieutenant, "because any one whoaccused anybody of making use of extrasensory faculties in 1971 wouldhave been tossed into that establishment out on Narragansett Avenuewhere the headshrinkers once plied their mystic trade. " "Things are different now. " "Indeed they are, Wally. Which is why I'm here. No one but a fumblingidiot would try anything as crude as speeding a dog over the line bypyrotics or by jolting the animals with a bolt of electrical energy. " "So--?" "So considering the sad and sorry fact that human nature does not changevery much despite the vast possibility for improvement, we mustanticipate a fix that has been contrived and executed on a level thattakes full cognizance of the widespread presence of psi-function. " "But again, why me?" "Was not 'Fireman' O'Leary an ancestor of yours?" "He was my maternal grandparent. " "And so you do indeed come from a long line of horse operators, don'tyou?" "I resent your invidious implications. " "And wasn't 'Wireless' Wilson the paternal ancestor from whom the familyname has come?" "I fail to see . .. The allegation that my father's father employedtelepathy to transmit track information faster than the wire serviceshas never been proved. " He smiled knowingly. "Wally, " he said slowly, "if you feel thatallegations have somehow impugned the pure name of your family, youcould apply for a review of their several appearances in court. It'spossible that 'Fireman' O'Leary did _not_ use his pyrotic talent toenhance the running speed of some tired old dogs. " "But--" "So I think we understand one another, Wally. There is also reason tobelieve that psionic talent tends to run in families. You're a psi-manand a good one. " "If I hear of anything--" "You'll let me know, " he said flatly. "And if Flying Heels, Moonbeam, _and-or_ Lady Grace even so much as succeed in staying on their feet forthe whole race, I'll be back demanding to know how you--WallyWilson--managed to hold them up!" After which the good Lieutenant Delancey left me to my thoughts--whichwere most uncomfortable. Barcelona had to be kept cheerful. But the dogs he'd picked could onlycome in first unassisted if they happened to be leading the field thatstarted the _next_ race, and even then the post time would have to bedelayed to give them a longer head start. That meant that _if_ our threeplaters came awake, _everybody_ would be looking for the fix. Anybody who planned a caper would sure have to plan it well. Barcelona hadn't planned the fix, he merely stated a firm desire andeither Barcelona got what he wanted or I got what I didn't want, and Ihad to do it real good or Delancey would make it real hot for me. I was not only being forced to enter a life of crime, I was also beingforced to perform cleverly. It wasn't fair for the law to gang up with the crooks against me. And so with a mind feeling sort of like the famous sparrow who'd gottentrapped for three hours in a badminton game at Forest Hills, I built astrong highball, and poured it down while my halluscene set was warmingup. I needed the highball as well as the relaxation, because I knew thatthe "Drama" being presented was the hundred and umpty-umpth remake of"Tarzan of the Apes" and for ninety solid minutes I would be swingingthrough trees without benefit of alcohol. Tarzan, you'll remember, didnot learn to smoke and drink until the second book. * * * * * The halluscene did relax me and kept my mind from its worry even thoughthe drama was cast for kids and therefore contained a maximum oftree-swinging and ape-gymnastics and a near dearth of Lady Jane'spleasant company. What was irritating was the traces of wrong aroma. Ifone should not associate the African jungle with the aroma of a cheapbar, one should be forgiven for objecting to Lady Jane with a strongflavor of tobacco and cheap booze on her breath. And so I awoke with this irritating conflict in my senses to discoverthat I'd dropped out of my character as Tarzan and my surroundings ofthe jungle, but I'd somehow brought the stench of cheap liquor and moistcigarettes with me. There was an occupant in the chair next to mine. He needed a bath and heneeded a shave but both would have been wasted if he couldn't changehis clothing, too. His name was Gimpy Gordon. I said, "Get out!" He whined, "Mr. Wilson, you just gotta help me. " "How?" "Fer years, " he said, "I been living on peanuts. I been runnin' errandsfor hard coins. I been--" "Swiping the take of a Red Cross box, " I snapped at him. "Aw, Mr. Wilson, " he whined, "I simply gotta make a stake. I'm a-goin'to send it back when I win. " "Are you going to win?" "Can't I?" For a moment I toyed with the idea of being honest with the Gimp. Somehow, someone should tell the duffer that all horse players diebroke, or that if he could make a living I'd be out of business. Gimpy Gordon was one of Life's Unfortunates. If it were to rain goldcoins, Gimpy would be out wearing boxing gloves. His mental processesmeandered because of too much methyl. His unfortunate nickname did notcome from the old-fashioned reason that he walked with a limp, but fromthe even more unfortunate reason that he _thought_ with a limp. In hisown unhealthy way he was--could we call it "Lucky" by any standard ofhonesty? In this world full of highly developed psi talent, the Gimp_could_ pick a pocket and get away with it because he often literallycould not remember where and how he'd acquired the wallet for longerthan a half minute. And it was a sort of general unwritten rule that anycitizen so utterly befogged as to permit his wealth to be lifted vialight fingers should lose it as a lesson! But then it did indeed occur to me that maybe I could make use of theGimp. I said, "What can I do, Gimpy?" "Mr. Wilson, " he pleaded, "is it true that you're workin' forBarcelona?" "Now, you know I can't answer that. " I could read his mind struggling with this concept. It was sort of liketrying to read a deck of Chinese Fortune Cards being shuffled beforethey're placed in the machine at the Penny Arcade. As the drunk oncesaid after reading the Telephone Directory: "Not much plot, but _egad_!What a cast of characters!" The gist of his mental maundering was achildlike desire to have everything sewed up tight. He wanted to win, tobe told that he'd win, and to have all the rules altered ad hoc toassure his winning. Just where he'd picked up the inside dope that Barcelona favored FlyingHeels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace in the Derby I could not dig out of him. Just how Gimpy had made the association between this clambake andme--good old Wally Wilson--I couldn't dig either. But here he was withhis--by now--sixty-five bucks carefully heisted, lifted, pinched andfingered, and by the great Harry, Gimpy was not a-goin' to lay it acrossthe board on those three rejects from a claiming race unless he had acast-iron assurance that they'd come in across the board, one, two, andthree. I said slowly, "_If_ I were even thinking of working for Mr. Barcelona, "I told him, "I would be very careful never, never to mention it, youknow. " * * * * * This bundle of The Awful Truth hit him and began to sink in with theinexorable absorption of water dropping down into a bucket of dry sand. It took some time for the process to climax. Once it reached Home Baseit took another period of time for the information to be inspected, sorted out, identified, analyzed, and in a very limited degree, understood. [Illustration] He looked up at me. "I couldn't cuff a hundred, could I?" I shook my head. I didn't have to veil my mind because I knew that Gimpywas about as talented a telepath as a tallow candle. Frankly between meand thee, dear reader, I do not put anybody's bet on the cuff. I do afair-to-middling brisk trade in booking bets placed and discussed bytelepathy, but the ones I accept and pay off on--if they're lucky--arethose folks who've been sufficiently foresighted to lay it on the linewith a retainer against which their losses can be assessed. On the other hand I could see in Gimpy's mind the simple logic that toldhim that as a bookmaker I'd be disinclined to lend him money which he'duse to place with me against a sure-thing long shot. If I were to "Lend"him a century for an on-the-cuff bet on a 100:1 horse, especially onethat I knew was sure to come in, I might better simply hand him onehundred times one hundred dollars as a gift. It would save a lot ofmessy bookkeeping. So the fact that I wouldn't cuff a bet for Gimpy gave him his own proofthat I was confirming the fix. Then I buttered the process. "Gimp, do you know another good bookmaker?" "Sure. But you're the best. " "Know one that'll take a bet from you--one that you don't like?" "Sure, Mr. Wilson. " "Then, " I said hauling a thousand out of my wallet, "Put this on _ourhorses_ for me. " He eyed the grand. "But won't Mr. Barcelona be unhappy? Won't that rundown the track odds?" I laughed. "The whole world knows them dogs as also-rans, " I said. "Gimpy, they put long shots like those into races just to clip thesuckers who think there is a real hundred-to-one chance that a 100:1horse will outrun favorites. " "Well, if you say so, Mr. Wilson. " "I say so. " "Thanks. I'll pay it back. " He would. I'd see to that. Gimpy Gordon scuttled out of my bailiwick almost on a dead run. He waspositively radiating merriment and joy and excitement. The note in hishand represented a sum greater than he had ever seen in one piece at anytime of his life, and the concept of the riches he would know when theypaid off on the Kentucky Derby was vague simply because Gimpy could notgrasp the magnitude of such magnificence. Oddly, for some unexpectedreason or from some unknown source hidden deep in his past, his mindpronounced it "Darby. " * * * * * I returned to my African jungle still bored with the lack of anythingconstructive. I returned at about the point where Tarzan and Jane weregoing through that silly, "Me Tarzan; You Jane" routine which was evenmore irritating because the program director or someone had muffed theperfume that the Lady Jane wore. Instead of the wholesome freshness ofthe free, open air, Jane was wearing a heady, spicy scent engineered tocut its way through the blocking barrier of stale cigar smoke, whisky-laden secondhand air, and a waft of cooking aroma from thekitchen of the standard cosmopolitan bistro. Worse, it got worse instead of better. Where a clever effects-directormight have started with the heavy sophisticated scent and switched tosomething lighter and airier as Jane was moved away from civilization, this one had done it backwards for some absolutely ridiculous reason. Itfinally got strong enough to distract me out of my characterization, andI came back to reality to realize once more that reality had been strongenough to cut into the concentration level of a halluscene. There wasstrong woman-presence in my room, and as I looked around I found thatTomboy Taylor had come in--just as Gimpy Gordon had--and was sitting inthe other halluscene chair. She was probably playing Lady Jane to myTarzan. Tomboy Taylor had changed to a short-skirted, low-necked cocktail dress;relaxed with her eyes closed in my halluscene chair she looked lovely. She looked as vulnerable as a soft kitten. Remembering that it's thesoft vulnerable ones that claw you if you touch, I refrained. I went to my little bar and refilled my highball glass because swingingthrough the jungle makes one thirsty, and while I was pouring I took asly peek into Tomboy Taylor's mind. She was not halluscening. She was watching me. And when I made contactwith her, she radiated a sort of overall aura of amusement-emotion, covered up her conscious deliberation, and blocked any probing bydirecting me mentally, "Make it two, Wally. " I built her one, handed it to her, and then said, "Folks these days surehave forgotten how to use doorbells. " "If you don't want people coming in, Wally, you should restrict yourmindwarden a little. It's set to admit anybody who does not approach thedoor with vigorous intent to commit grave physical harm. When the thingradiates 'Come in and relax' is a girl supposed to stand outsidetwiggling on the doorbell?" I dropped the subject thinking that maybe I shouldn't have brought it upin the first place. It's one that can't be answered by logic, whereas afirm emotional statement of like or dislike stops all counter-argumentand I'd made the mistake of questioning my own judgment. So I eyed her and said, "Tomboy, you did not come here to indulge insmall talk. " "No, " she admitted. "I'm here to keep track of you, Wally. " "Oh?" "Our great and good friend wants me to make notes on how clever you areat arranging things. " "You mean Barcelona sent you. " "That's about it. " I looked at her askance. "And how long are you going to stay?" She smiled. "Until Flying Heels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace come acrossthe finish line One, Two, and Three at Churchill Downs on Derby Day. " I grinned at her. "Considering that trio of turtles, Tomboy, it may befor years and it may be forever. " She held up her glass in a sort of a toast. "Or, " she said, "'Til deathdo us part!" A little bitterly I said, "One might think that Barcelona doesn't trustme. " She replied, "It isn't a matter of trust. Barcelona holds you among hisvery closest friends. He is well aware of the fact that you would doanything for him, that you prize his friendship so highly yourself thatyou would go to the most desperate lengths to keep it firm and true. Yethe realizes that the simple desire he has recently expressed does placeyou in a delicate mental attitude. You are likely to feel that heshouldn't have expressed this desire since you feel obligated to fulfillit. He feels that maybe this obligation to maintain friendship at allcosts may cause resentment. Since Barcelona does not want you to resenthim, he sent me to be your companion in the hope that I might get someforewarning should your friendship for him begin to weaken. " * * * * * Just why in this day and age she didn't just come out and say--orthink--flatly that she was there to keep me in line, I don't know. Butthere she was, talking all around the main point and delivering theinformation by long-winded inference. Even so, without her Pittsburgh stogie, Tomboy Taylor was a mightyattractive dish, and I knew that she could also be a bright andinteresting conversationalist if she wanted to be. Under othercircumstances I might have enjoyed the company, but it was no pleasureto know that every grain of her one hundred and fourteen poundsavoirdupois was Barcelona's Personal Property. At that moment I realizedthat I was not too much concerned with what Barcelona's reaction mightbe. Instead, I was wishing that things were different so that anyactivity between us would be for our own personal gain and pleasurerather than the order of or the fight against one Joseph Barcelona. There was one consolation. Tomboy Taylor had not come equipped with abox of Pittsburgh stogies with which to make my appreciation of beautythrow up its lunch. She said, sweetly, "The better to ensnare you, my dear. " But as she spoke, for just a moment her thick woolly mind shield thinnedout enough for me to catch a strange, puzzled grasp for understanding. As if for the first time she had been shown how admiration for physicalattractiveness could be both honest and good. That my repugnant attitudeover her Pittsburgh stogies was not so much based upon the spoiling ofbeauty by the addition of ugliness, but the fact that the act itselfcheapened her in my eyes. Then she caught me peeking and clamped down a mind screen that made theold so-called "Iron Curtain" resemble a rusty sieve. "I'm the one that's supposed to keep track of you, you remember, " shesaid, once more covering up and leaping mentally to the attack. "I'll remember, " I said. "But will you tell me something?" "Maybe, " she said in a veiled attitude. "Is your boy friend really interested in cleaning up, or is heinterested in watching me squirm out of a trap he set for me?" "In the first place, " she said, "I may have been seen in Barcelona'spresence but please remember that my association with Mr. JosephBarcelona has always been strictly on a financial plane. This eliminatesthe inference contained under the phrase 'Boy Friend. ' Check?" "O. K. , Tomboy, if that's the--" "That's not only the way I want it, " she said, "but that's the way italways has been and always will be. Second, I have been getting tired ofthis nickname 'Tomboy'. If we're going to be racked this close together, you'll grate on my nerves less if you use my right name. It's just plain'Nora' but I'd like to hear it once in a while. " I nodded soberly. I held out a hand but she put her empty highball glassin it instead of her own little paw. I shrugged and mixed and when Ireturned and handed it to her I said, "I'll make you a deal. I'll callyou 'Nora' just so long as you maintain the manners and attitude of afemale, feminine, lady-type woman. I'll treat you like a woman, butyou've got to earn it. Is that a deal?" She looked at me, her expression shy and as defenseless as abruiser-type caught reading sentimental poetry. I perceived that I hadagain touched a sensitive spot by demanding that she be more thanphysically spectacular. Her defenses went down and I saw that she reallydid not know the answer to my question. I did. It had to do withsomething that only the achievement of a God-like state--or extreme oldage--would change. This time it was not so much the answer to why little boys walk highfences in front of little girls. It had much more to do with the resultof what happens between little boys when the little girl hides herbaseball bat and straightens the seams of her stockings when one certainlittle boy comes into sight. Joseph Barcelona did not admire my ability. He had, therefore, caused me to back myself into a corner where I'd betaken down a peg, shown-up as a second-rater--with the little girl as awitness. And why had Barcelona been so brash as to send the little girl into mycompany in order for her to witness my downfall? Let me tell you about Joe Barcelona. * * * * * Normally honest citizens often complain that Barcelona is living highoff'n the hawg instead of slugging it out in residence at Stateville, Joliet, Illinois. With their straight-line approach to simple logic, these citizens arguethat the advent of telepathy should have rendered the falsehoodimpossible, and that perception should enable anybody with half a talentto uncover hidden evidence. Then since Mr. Joseph Barcelona isobviously not languishing in jail, it is patent that the police are notmaking full use of their talented extrasensory operators, nor theevidence thus collected. And then after having argued thus, our upstanding citizen will fire offa fast thought to his wife and ask her to invite the neighbors over thatevening for a game of bridge. None of these simple-type of logicians seem to be aware of the rules forbridge or poker that were in force prior to extrasensory trainingcourses. Since no one recognized psionics, the rules did not taketelepathy, perception, manipulation, into any consideration whatsoever. Psionics hadn't done away with anything including the old shell game. All psionics had done was to make the game of chance into a game ofskill, and made the game of skill into a game of talent that requiredbetter control and longer training in order to gain full proficiency. In Barcelona's case, he had achieved his own apparent immunity bysurrounding himself with a number of hirelings who drew a handsomesalary for sitting around thinking noisy thoughts. Noisy thoughts, jarring thoughts, stunts like the concentration-interrupter of playingthe first twenty notes of Brahms' Lullaby in perfect pitch and timingand then playing the twenty-first note in staccato and a half-tone flat. Making mental contact with Barcelona was approximately the analogue ofeavesdropping upon the intimate cooing of a lover sweet-talking his ladyin the middle of a sawmill working on an order three days late under ahigh priority and a penalty clause for delayed delivery. People who wonder how Barcelona can think for himself with all of thatterrific mental racket going on do not know that Barcelona is one ofthose very rare birds who can really concentrate to the whole exclusionof any distraction short of a vigorous threat to his physicalwell-being. And so his trick of sending Nora Taylor served a threefold purpose. Itindicated his contempt for me. It removed Nora from his zone ofinterference so that she could really witness firsthand my mentalsquirmings as I watched my own comeuppance bearing down on me. It alsogave him double the telepathic contact with me and my counter-plans--ifany. In the latter, you see, Barcelona's way of collecting outsideinformation was to order a temporary cease-fire of the mental noisebarrage and then he'd sally forth like a one-man mental commando raid tomake a fast grab for what he wanted. Since the best of telepaths cannotread a man's opinion of prunes when he's thinking of peanuts, it isnecessary for someone to be thinking of the subject he wants when hemakes his raid. Having two in the know and interested doubled his chancefor success. There was also the possibility that Barcelona might consider hisdeliberate "Leak" to Gimpy Gordon ineffective. Most sensible folks aredisinclined to treat Gimpy's delusions of grandeur seriously despite thetruth of the cliché that states that a one-to-one correspondence doesindeed exist between the perception of smoke and the existence ofpyrotic activity. Nora Taylor would add some certification to the rumor. One thing simply had to be: There must be no mistake about placinginformation in Lieutenant Delancey's hands so as to create the other jawof the pincers that I was going to be forced to close upon myself. * * * * * I tried a gentle poke in the general direction of Barcelona and foundthat the mental noise was too much to stand. I withdrew just a bit andclosed down the opening until the racket was no more than a mentalrumor, and I waited. I hunched that Barcelona would be curious to knowhow his contact-girl was making out, and might be holding a cease-fireearly in this phase of the operation. I was right. The noise diminished with the suddenness of turning off a mental switch, and as it stopped I went in and practically popped Barcelona on thenoodle with: "How-de-do, Joseph. " He recoiled at the unexpected thrust, but came back with: "Wally Wilson!Got a minute?" I looked at the calendar, counted off the days to Derby Day in my mindand told him that I had that long--at the very least and probably much, much longer. "Thinks you!" "Methinks, " I replied. "Wally boy, " he returned, "you aren't playing this very smart. " "Suppose you tell me how you'd be playing it, " I bounced back at him. "Tell you how I have erred?" He went vague on me. "If I were of a suspicious nature, I would begin towonder about certain connective events. For instance, let's hypothecate. Let's say that a certain prominent bookmaker had been suspected ofplanning to put a fix on a certain important horse race, but of coursenothing could be proved. Now from another source we suddenly discoverstrong evidence to suggest that this bookmaker is not accepting wagerson the horses he is backing, but conversely is busy laying wagers on thesame nags through the help of a rather inept go-between. " I grunted aloud which caused Nora Taylor to look up in surprise. I wastempted to say it aloud but I did not. I thought: "In simple terms, Joseph, you are miffed because I will not cover yourbets. " "I thought nothing of the sort. " "Let's hedge? I love you too, Joseph. " "Well, are you or aren't you?" "Are I what? Going to top the frosting by financing your little schemeto put the pinch on me?" "Now, Wally--" "Can it, Joseph. We're both big boys now and we both know what the scoreis. You know and I know that the first time I or one of my boys takes abet on any one of the three turtles you like, the guy who laid the betis going to slip the word to one of your outside men. And you're goingto leap to the strange conclusion that if Wally Wilson is accepting betsagainst his own fix, he must know something exceedingly interesting. " [Illustration] "Now, who's been saying anything about a fix, Wally?" "The people, " I thought bluntly, "who have most recently been associatedwith your clever kind of operator. " "That isn't very nice, Wally. " If it had been a telephone conversation, I'd have slammed the telephoneon him. The mealymouthed louse and his hypocritical gab was making memad--and I knew that he was making me mad simply to make me lose controlof my blanket. I couldn't stop it, so I let my anger out by thinking: "You think you are clever because you're slipping through sly littleloopholes, Joseph. I'm going to show you how neat it is to geteverything I want including your grudging admission of defeat by theprocess of making use of the laws and rules that work in my favor. " "You're a wise guy, " he hurled back at me. "I'm real clever, Barcelona. And I'm big enough to face you, eventhough Phil Howland, The Greek, and Chicago Charlie make like cold clamsat the mention of your name. " "Why, you punk--" "Go away, Barcelona. Go away before I make up my mind to make you eatit. " I turned to Nora Taylor and regarded her charms and attractions bothphysical and mental with open and glowing admiration. It had theprecalculated result and it wouldn't have been a whit different if I'dfiled a declaration of intent and forced her to read it first. It even satisfied my ambient curiosity about what a telepathed grindingof the teeth in frustrated anger would transmit as. And when it managedto occur to an unemployed thought-center of my brain that the lines ofbattle were soft and sweetly curved indeed, Joseph Barcelona couldn'tstand it any more. He just gave a mental sigh and signaled for thenoisemakers to shut him off from contact. * * * * * Derby Day, the First Saturday in May, dawned warm and clear with a fast, dry track forecast for post time. The doorbell woke me up and I dredgedmy apartment to identify Nora fiddling in my two-bit kitchen with hamand eggs. Outside it was Lieutenant Delancey practising kinematics bypressing the button with a levitated pencil instead of shoving on thething directly. (I'd changed the combination on the mindwarden at Nora'ssuggestion. ) As I struggled out of bed, Nora flashed, "You get it, Wally, " at me. Shewas busy manipulating the ham slicer and the coffee percolator andfloating more eggs from the refrigerator. The invitation and theacceptance for and of breakfast was still floating in the mentalatmosphere heavy enough to smell the coffee. I replied to both of them, "If he can't get in, let him go hungry. " Lieutenant Delancey manipulated the door after I'd reset the mindwardenfor him. He came in with a loud verbal greeting that Nora answered by acall from the kitchen. I couldn't hear them because I was in the showerby that time. However, I did ask, "What gives, lieutenant?" "It's Derby Day. " "Yeah. So what?" "Going to watch it from here?" he thought incredulously. "Why not? Be a big jam down there. " "I've a box, " he said. "No . .. How--?" "Both the Derby Association and the Chicago Police Force have assignedme to protect you from the evil doings of sinners, " he said with achuckle. "And I suggested that the best way of keeping an official eyeon you was to visit you at the scene of the alleged intended crime andto serve that end they provided me with a box where we can all betogether. " I tossed, "And if we do not elect to go to Kentucky?" He chuckled again. "Then I shall have to arrest you. " "For what?" "There is an old law in the City Statute that declares something called'Massive Cohabitation' to be illegal. You have been naughty, Wally. " Nora exploded. "We have not!" she cried. Lieutenant Delancey laughed like a stage villain. "The law I mention, "he said after a bit of belly-laughing, "was passed long, long ago beforetelepathy and perception were available to provide the truth. At thattime the law took the stand that any unmarried couple living togetherwould take advantage of their unchaperoned freedom, and if this state ofcohabitation went on for a considerable length of time--called 'Massive'but don't ask me to justify the term--the probability of their takingpleasure in one another's company approached a one hundred per centpositive probability. "Now this law was never amended by the Review Act. Hence the fact thatyou have been chastely occupying separate chambers has nothing to dowith the letter of the law that says simply that it is not lawful for anunmarried couple to live under the same unchaperoned roof. " I came out of the shower toweling myself and manipulating a selection ofclean clothing out of the closet in my bedroom. "The law, " I observed, "is administered by the _Intent_ of the Law, andnot by the Letter, isn't it?" "Oh, sure, " he said. "But I'm not qualified to interpret the law. I'llarrest you and bring you to trial and then it's up to some judge to ruleupon your purity and innocence of criminal intent, and freedom frommoral taint or turpitude. Maybe take weeks, you know. " "And what's the alternative?" I grunted. "Flight, " he said in a sinister tone as I came out of my bedroom puttingthe last finishes on my necktie. "Flight away from the jurisdiction ofthe law that proposes to warp the meaning of the law to accomplish itsown ends. " "And you?" "My duty, " he grinned, "is to pursue you. " "In which case, " observed Nora Taylor, "we might as well fly togetherand save both time and money. " "That is why I have my personal sky-buggy all ready to go instead ofrequisitioning an official vehicle, " he said. He scooped a fork full ofeggs and said, "You're a fool, Wally. The lady can cook. " I chuckled. "And what would happen if I hauled off and married her?" "You mean right here and now?" "Yes. " "Sorry. I'd have to restrain you. You see, you couldn't get a legallicense nor go through any of the other legal activities, ergo therewould be a prima facie illegality about some part of the ceremony. Without being definite as to which phase, I would find it my duty torestrain you from indulging in any act the consummation of which wouldbe illegal. " Nora said in pseudo-petulant tone, "I've been damned with very faintpraise. " "How so?" "Wally Wilson has just said that he'd rather marry me than go to theKentucky Derby with you. " Lieutenant Delancey said, "I urge you both to come along. You see, mybox is also being occupied by an old friend of yours. I managed to talkhim into joining us, and with reluctance he consented. " "I'm a mind reader, " I said. "Our friend's name is Joseph Barcelona?" "As they say on the space radio, 'Aye-firm, over and out!'" * * * * * Barcelona was there with two of his boys. Watching them were fourununiformed officers. Nora and I and the lieutenant were joined later byGimpy Gordon, who might have been radiating childlike wonder and acircus-air of excitement at actually being _at_ the Derby. He might havebeen. No one could cut through the constant, maddening mentalblah-blah-blah that was being churned out by Barcelona's noisemakers. He greeted me curtly, eyed Nora hungrily. He said: "You look prettyconfident, Wilson. " "I can't lose, " I said. "No? Frankly I don't see how you can win. " I smiled. "Without mentioning any names, Joseph, I feel confident thatthe final outcome of this racing contest will be just as you want it tobe. I shall ask that no credit be given me, although I shall be greatlyadmired by our mutual friend Miss Nora Taylor who will think that I amtruly wonderful for making you happy. And it is more than likely thatshe may marry me once I have shown you, and she, _and_ LieutenantDelancey, that I am a law-abiding citizen as well as a man who valuesfriendship enough to do as his old pal Joe Barcelona desires. " "It's going to be one of the neatest tricks of the week, " he said. "It will be done by the proper application of laws, " I said modestly. Behind us, Gimpy Gordon light-fingered a half dollar out of Delancey'spocket and was attracting the attention of a hot dog peddler by wavinghis program. Some folks nearby were eying Barcelona's noisemakersangrily but making very little visible protest once they identified him. Nora was reading her program and underlining some horses. The wholeplace began to grow into a strange excited silence as the track boardbegan to go up. It was to be a nine-horse race, and at the top of thelist were three--count them--three odds-on favorites: 1. Murdoch's Hoard 1:2 2. Mewhu's Jet 3:5 3. Johnny Brack 5:7 4. Piper's Son 8:5 5. Daymare 3:1 6. Helen O'Loy 8:1 And then, of course, there were our three mud turtles which must havebeen entered by someone who thought that the Kentucky Derby was aclaiming race and who hoped that the LePage's Glue people would make abid for the three mounds of thoroughbred horseflesh that dropped dead inthe backstretch: 7. Flying Heels 100:1 8. Moonbeam 250:1 9. Lady Grace 500:1 The rack hadn't hit the top of the slide before there was a sort ofmass-movement towards the mutuel windows. The ones who didn't go inperson tried to hurl betting-thoughts in the hope of getting there earlyand failing this they arose and followed the crowd. Slowly the oddsbegan to change; the figures on our three platers began to rise. Therewas very little activity on the other six horses. Slow-thinking GimpyGordon started to get up but I put out a hand to stop him. "But the odds are dropping, " he complained. "Gimpy, " I said, "they pay on the final listing anyway. But would youlike a tip?" "Sure, " he said nervously. "My tip is to keep your cash in your pocket. Put it on the nose of somehorse and it's likely to get blown away by a high wind. " The odds were changing rapidly. What with psionic information receivers, trend predictors and estimated anticipators, the mutuel computers keptup with the physical transfer of funds, figured out the latest odds, andflipped the figures as fast as the machinery could work the dials. In nomore than a few minutes the odds on the three platers looked more likethe odds on horses that stood a chance of winning. * * * * * Barcelona looked at me. "What did you do, wise guy?" "Who . .. Me? Why, I didn't do anything that you did not start--exceptthat maybe I was a little more generous. " "_Spiel!_" he snarled. "Why, shucks, Joseph. All I did was to slip good old Gimpy Gordon atip. " "How much?" "Just a lousy little thousand dollar bill. " "A grand! For what, wise guy?" "Why, just for telling me what horses you picked for the Derby. " Barcelona looked at the odds on his horses. Flying Heels had passed evenmoney and was heading for a one-to-two odds-on. The other platers werefollowing accordingly. "And what did you tell Gimpy, Wilson?" "You tell him, Gimp, " I said. "Why, Wilson just said that we should ride along with you, Mr. Barcelona, because you are such a nice guy that everybody works awfullyhard to see that you get what you want. " "There's more!" roared Barcelona. "Only that I shouldn't mention it to anybody, and that I shouldn't placemy bet until the mutuel windows open because if I did it would louse upthe odds and make you unhappy. " Gimpy looked at Barcelona's stormy faceand he grew frightened. "Honest, Mr. Barcelona, I didn't say a word tonobody. Not a word. " He turned to me and whined plaintively, "You tellhim, Mr. Wilson. I didn't say a word. " I soothed him. "We know you didn't, Gimpy. " Barcelona exploded. "Ye Gods!" he howled. "They used that gimmick on mewhen I lost my first baby tooth. 'Don't put your tongue in the vacantplace, ' they said, 'and don't think of the words _Gold Tooth_ and it'llgrow in natural gold!'" As he spoke the odds on Flying Heels changed from a staggeringOne-to-Eight to an even more staggering One-to-Ten. That meant thatanybody holding less than a ten-dollar bet on such a winner would onlyget his own money back because the track does not insult its clients byweighing them down with coins in the form of small change. They keep thechange and call it "Breakage" for any amount over an even-dollar money. Delancey said to Barcelona, "You have had it, Joseph. " Barcelona snarled, "Put the big arm on Wilson here. He's the fast manwith the big fix. " "Wilson didn't fix any race, Joseph. He just parlayed some of the lawsof human nature into a win for himself and a lose for you. " "Now see here--what's this guff about human nature?" "Well, there's the human desire to ride with a winner, and the humanfrailty that hopes to get something for nothing. To say nothing of thegreat human desire to be 'On the Inside' track or 'In the Know' so thatthey can bet on the 'Sure Thing'. And so, " said Delancey, "we've abouttwenty thousand human beings full of human nature holding tickets onyour three dogs, Joseph. They bet their money because the 'Inside Dope'said that the big fix was in. And I can tell you that what twentythousand people are going to do to this 'Inside Dope' when their nagsrun last is going to make Torquemada ask permission to return to lifefor a Second Inquisition, this time with extrasensory tortures. " Heturned to me as Barcelona went pale. "Wally, " he asked, "want to betthat someone doesn't remember that old question of whether it ispossible to break every bone in a man's body without killing him?" "I'd be a fool to cover that one, " I said. "But I'll play even money andon either side of whether Joseph dies or lives through the process. " "Stop it!" screamed Barcelona. He grabbed me by the arm. "Wilson, " hepleaded, "Can you? Stop it, I mean? Can you fix it?" "Sure, " I said. "Legally?" "Yep. But it'll cost you. " "Just money?" "Just money--and admitting that you lost, Joseph!" "I lose, " he said. "Go ahead!" "O. K. , Joseph. Now, let's be real honest. Those three longshore turtlesbelong to you, don't they?" "Yes. " "And right now you wouldn't even want to see them run, would you? Infact, you really want that they shouldn't run. " "Yes. " "All right, Joseph. Call off your noisemakers and toss the Head Stewarda thought. Tell him you're scratching your entries. " "But that won't stop the people from losing their money. " "Natch. So next you broadcast a thought that because of this terrible, grievous error you are refunding their money out of your own pocketsince the Track Association will not or is not obliged to. " He turned to his pair of rattleheads and snarled, "All right. Shut up!" A mental silence fell that was like the peace of rest after a busy day. As Barcelona was tossing his cancellation at the Steward and preparingto make a full and plausible explanation to the gambling instinct of theKentucky Derby crowd, I considered the matter carefully: "Let's see, " I thought. "He wants 'em not to run and so he can'tcomplain to me if they do not. I didn't fix the race, so LieutenantDelancey can't accuse me of that. That makes everybody happy, and Iwin!" A small hand stole into mine. "How about me, Wally?" Nora asked sweetly. I looked down at a thionite dream come true by the glow in her eyes thatadmired no one else but me. "You're mine, " I reminded her, "until FlyingHeels, Moonbeam, and Lady Grace win One, Two, and Three at the KentuckyDerby. " "Or, " she said mischievously, "'Til death do us part!" * * * * * I was instructing her how to respond to a kiss as a lady should respondwhen about two hundred thousand noisy, exuberant human natures yelledand radiated and thought: "They're Off!" But they didn't mean us. They were watching a bunch of long-facedhayburners chasing one another around a dusty track. Human nature ain't changed a bit. It's just more complicated in anextrasensory sort of way. THE END [Illustration] Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from _Astounding Science Fiction_ December 1959. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.