The mind benders, p.8
The Mind Benders, page 8
Ramrod encouraged him with talk of loyalty.
‘Sure,’ Norman cut him short. ‘I see that, and I’m not saying I go with you and your sort, not all the way, but I’ve checked up on you, I know fine who you are and that’s why I’m talking like this. The beer’s helping me. Don’t think you’re screwing it out of me. I want to say this. I want to.’
Ramrod said he was glad and asked him to continue. He did so very seriously.
‘I don’t know why he did what he has done. But if you think someone was getting at him, I’ll do anything on this earth to help you get one back. Old Sharpey was half in this world and half in outer space, but he was a genius, you could tell. Longman’s good but Sharpey was in a different class altogether, on top. What a mind! And he wouldn’t have hurt a fly. So shoot. . . . I’ll answer your questions.’
Ramrod nodded with satisfaction. He already had them in his mind, listed, of course, and numbered properly.
‘Did you work with Sharpey until the end?’
‘Every experiment.’
‘Did anybody else come in during these experiments?’
‘No one.’
‘You never left the lab during an experiment?’
‘What? With him in the tank? Don’t be silly, he had to get out.’
‘And he used to tell you to take him out?’
‘Before, he did. It was worked on the clock. We advanced by quarter, sometimes half hours. It doesn’t sound much, but put a bloke in the tank and it’s forever. I can tell you time looks silly. The longest I ever kept with him was five hours and the half. It seemed like fifteen years. But when once I did pull him out before the time—’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘You haven’t heard what they say.’
‘Did you think he was in danger?’
‘You mean of dying?’
Ramrod nodded.
‘Not that,’ Norman admitted. ‘The torture’s too bloody subtle for that. The mask continues to work. The bloke continues to breathe. He won’t die, even if he wants to. They got him on the rack, that’s what it sounds like, and first when you think he’s got to bust up and die, it goes the other way. . . . You got to see it. I can’t explain all that. But Sharpey thought he was getting somewhere, else he wouldn’t have gone on like that. He used to arrive at the torture chamber, hat on, briefcase and brolly – you know – just as if it were the office.’
‘You have a great admiration for Sharpey?’
‘You bet.’
‘And Longman?’
Norman was caught unawares. He looked into his beer as he said, ‘Longman’s a fair enough bloke.’
Ramrod took an uncharacteristic leap ahead. He said, ‘Come on—’ Only that.
Norman put down his beer. ‘Well – So he is.’
‘ – As a scientist?’
‘You can underestimate him as a scientist. Maybe his being American. We all had our doubts. But that lab, the whole thing, the tank, the tapes, all dead simple, that’s Longman. He’s a “fixer”. You know what I mean? Half of them, they may manage the equations but ask them to put in a screw and they’re lost. Not Longman. He’d do my job better than me, and that’s not to say he’s lacking on top. He doesn’t jump to things, but he gets there better than most of them, only slowly – You should see his handwriting. It’s like a child’s, and his spelling’s worse than mine. When he writes a paper Tate has to half write it for him, but what’s there’s good. Like in the film. You saw yourself. It was Longman snaps it’s not Low Temperature. That’s really typical of him. Round the lab, too, he can go on for hours, no panic, endless patience. He used to be on biochemistry, too, trying to list Enzymes – you know, catalyst things, here one minute and gone the next. You can’t get a bigger test of an experimentalist than that. It’s lovely watching him. Whistling, droning away, like a little boy making a toy aeroplane, all the time in the world. . . . I think I’m saying he’s good, really good. Not a genius maybe, but a proper research type, and more strength to his elbow—’
The expression seemed to remind him of his beer. He finished it in one, and Ramrod, without further prompting, went to the bar and had another pint drawn.
With a belch, Norman warmed up again.
‘As I say, Longman’s fair enough.’
‘You sound as if you’re excusing him.’
‘I don’t know . . .’
‘When did he stop coming into Isolation?’
‘Two months ago. Mind, I can’t blame him for that. Until then he’d done all the nasty part. He wouldn’t let the old man into the tank. He was putting himself on the rack week after week while I worked the tapes and the Professor took notes. So don’t get me wrong, when he said he’d had enough, I was with him, a hundred per cent. But the Professor insists on going on without him.’
‘Did you see Longman about that?’
‘Yep.’
‘Wouldn’t he do anything?’
‘He went to the Professor.’
‘What good did that do?’
‘None.’
‘You mean he went on?’
‘Harder than ever.’
‘Did Longman know that?’
‘That’s the whole point. He knew damned well. I saw him again more than once. He just said there was nothing he could do, and then he didn’t even see me. Well, by then, this thing – this picnic lark, you’ve heard – had started with Oonagh.’
‘I haven’t heard.’
‘Then it’s not for me to tell you. I’m not the bloke to criticize. But his performance becomes ridiculous,’ he added, angrily. ‘Loves one thing, but—’ Then he stopped himself. ‘Anyway, he wasn’t going to do anything other than spend twenty-four hours of the day with that Oonagh. So the Professor goes on, and I’m not going to leave him.’
‘Why didn’t you appeal to somebody else?’
‘Who?’
‘Say, Calder.’
‘Oh, Major, come on – what the hell does Calder know, except the ladder? Tell Calder, he’d have Sharpey invalided out and grab the Chair himself.’
‘What about Tate?’
‘Tatty?’ Norman smiled. ‘He’s a boy. Tatty couldn’t do anything. He’s like the rest of them: all grey matter and crossword puzzle. You should see him when Oonagh’s anywhere near. He blushes at the thought of her smiling. Mind, they’re all the same with her. Me too, come to that.’
‘I haven’t met Mrs Longman,’ Ramrod admitted.
‘Whoo,’ Norman said. The beer was to cool him down. ‘Four kids, but all the same . . . She’s a knock-out. See her at a lab party, they’re all round her. Grabbing, if they dared.’ He extended his hands in a gesture which seemed to indicate a clutch at her lower half. Evidently it reminded him. ‘Yeah,’ he said, dizzily. ‘It’s high time I got back home. Past time, I’d say.’
PART TWO
10
Breakfast time in North Oxford is worse than elsewhere in the country. Here, the children have to get to school but the fathers can take their time. Besides, there are so many children. Conditions in the Longman household, at half past eight or a quarter to nine on the following morning were chaotic, indeed.
Persephone, like every elder sister in the world, felt obliged to take over responsibilities which her parents were shirking.
She said, ‘I can tell you quite clearly we are going to be late again, unless some people get their coats and hats on bloody-quick.’ The last was delivered as a kind of chanting threat which put Penny into a rage, and almost made her cry. These two were in the front hall.
The boys were still at breakfast, where Longman, too, was finishing his coffee and changing out of his slippers at the same time. He also felt resentment at Persephone’s bossiness.
‘I’m coming,’ he said rattily, as if he too had to be buttoned into his coat.
His eldest son did not like milk, but his wife liked his elder son to drink his milk.
‘Finish it,’ Oonagh said. She was surprisingly firm with them.
‘I hadda pinta.’
‘Liar.’
‘I hadda pinta yesterday.’
‘You finish it,’ Oonagh warned, and Penny drifted back with her school mac buttoned wrongly, so her stomach looked enormous. She said, ‘Mother, you mustn’t force him to milk. That way you could mix him up badly, inside.’
Even Longman looked up at that one. But Oonagh was not going to be distracted.
‘Finish it,’ she said, and in three resentful gulps, it was done.
‘Good boy.’
From the dishmaster which was in the corner Oonagh said, ‘Hurry darlings,’ as if it were any morning in May. But as the children returned to the hall Longman crossed to her for a moment and she held his hand.
He said, ‘School for me today too. Remember?’ And he searched her face, but she would say nothing. She stared at him solemnly and he said, ‘Don’t make me late.’
Among the children, Penny did most of the talking. She returned to the kitchen, took her father’s hand and said, ‘Do you think algebra is essential for girls, daddy?’
He thought it out. But Oonagh answered, ‘Essential’, at once.
Persephone called from the hall. ‘Daddy, have you got your bicycle clips?’ And by the table, Peers knocked over a packet of cornflakes. Paul and Penny made a dive for the free plastic gift inside. Persephone shouted ‘Come on’, Oonagh shouted, ‘Persephone, do not shout!’ And Peers, abandoning the chaos of the cornflakes, went to his tricycle and took some cycle clips off the handlebars. His mother, spotting them, grabbed them from him before they got lost. But silence was at last suddenly imposed by a sharp knock on the door.
‘Who on earth could that be?’ Oonagh asked.
‘Search me. Registered post?’ Longman suggested.
Persephone said, ‘The Secretary of the noise abatement society, I shouldn’t be surprised.’
‘Or the schools inspector,’ Paul said.
‘Do shut up, children,’ Oonagh said. She was straining to hear, as Longman answered the front door. It seemed to be a stranger.
‘Perhaps the police about speeding—’
‘Shut up, P.’
Longman was saying, ‘What can we do for you?’
Coming through from the kitchen to the hall, Oonagh heard the reply.
‘My name is Hall, Major Hall.’
‘Ah!’ Longman said slowly. ‘The man from the ministry.’
Inside there was complete quiet now.
Ramrod could not have missed the hostile edge in Longman’s voice. The children certainly had not. In the silence there was a great air of hostility.
‘If you could spare five minutes,’ Ramrod said.
‘As you know, I’ve already spared five weeks,’ Longman answered drily, and swung back the door. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘But Daddy, we’ll all get black marks again,’ Persephone said. ‘It’s nearly nine.’
Longman frowned. He said, ‘I’ll speak to your teacher.’
‘Promise?’
‘Yes . . . Get them ready, Otter—’
‘We are ready.’
‘Are the bikes pumped?’
Oonagh said, ‘Come on, children, we’ll check the tyres,’ and knowing full well this was a mere excuse, they obeyed her, looking at Ramrod with great suspicion from the corners of their eyes.
Penny said, ‘A bailiff, I bet,’ and was told not to try to be funny.
Longman indicated the room that had been the dining-room, which had a wigwam in one corner. He did not try to explain it away. But at the last moment, as he was about to close the door, his son Peers cycled up to take a close look. Longman hesitated, then beckoned him closer. Pulling him off the tricycle, he carried him into the dining room, telling Ramrod, ‘If you don’t mind, I’d like a witness. A fellow civilian.’
Peers seemed to like the idea. He stood about the settee, while his father half sat and half leant on its arm. All the time his father talked Peers played around with his pockets or the buttons on his sleeve. Longman soon forgot him, but continued absently to touch him and play with him as if he were a puppy not a child, lolling about in the patch of sun.
Ramrod was a well trained man. He did not beat about the bush.
‘I believe you were a close friend of Professor Sharpey’s?’
‘You know it.’ Longman looked at Peers, and said, ‘The man knows it.’
Ramrod was not put off. ‘You worked with him on Isolation?’
‘For a limited period.’
‘What limited it?’
Longman turned to his son and vaguely answered him. ‘A strong sense of panic on Daddy’s part.’
‘Doctor Longman, I know of Professor Sharpey’s activities in London, so obviously I want to be sure that no ends are left untied. Tell me, did he, during the last few months have – what shall we say? – any surprising visitors to the lab?’
Longman dropped his head. At last, and again to Peers, he said in a low voice, ‘Oh my God, listen to the man.’ He turned back to answer Ramrod. ‘Tell me, does it ever occur to Majors that they may be meddling in affairs about which they understand absolutely nothing?’
But Ramrod was at his best when his opponent’s temper rose. He said calmly, ‘Majors’ duties are clearly outlined. If bewildered they report back to their Colonels. The reasons which bring me here are quite simple. Professor Sharpey was dealing with what are defined for Majors as . . . undesirable people.’
‘Fine,’ Longman said, standing up and forgetting Peers now. ‘Fine, fine. So he qualifies for the rogues gallery, subsection treason.’
‘I have proof.’
‘Major, you’re a tonic – “Do this, you’re a patriot – Do that, you’re a traitor.”’
Ramrod was at his best. ‘Obviously,’ he said. Then as Longman moved to the other end of the room he continued, ‘I understand your feelings—’ but was at once interrupted.
‘You understand nothing. Nothing at all.’ Longman moved back to the Major. ‘Look, I’ve worked a little on Isolation. We have a tank—’
But then Persephone appeared at the window.
‘Daddy—’
‘— A perfectly ordinary tank.’
‘Daddy!’
Longman came to. ‘What is it, darling?’
‘We want Peers.’
Longman nodded absently. ‘Oh, sure. You have him. And again he spoke to Ramrod. ‘But drop into this tank, one man—’
‘Daddy, out here! We want him out here! Please pass him out.’
Longman took it in slowly. Then slowly obeyed. The picture which Norman had painted of the lonely experimentalist with blanket concentration had been very accurate. If Longman had been asked what he was passing out of the window, and why, he would not have been able to answer. And though he now spoke with great emotion, his opponent, Ramrod, who had done his prep, was moves ahead.
Longman ran on, ‘Drop this man in, leave him there in the tank for a while and he dissolves, mentally, I mean, dissolves until he is reduced to a soul-less, will-less thing; not a man, but a kind of sea anemone. How’s that for an eerie hypothesis?’
Ramrod had heard all this but he played with great care. Early in the morning he had risen from his lone, unlevel bed and reappreciated. Especially he had concentrated on breaking down ‘Object, to defend the Queen and her Commonwealth.’ He had noticed that he was no longer primarily interested in Sharpey’s defection. You can’t lock a dead man in a tower. He was certain, anyway, that the old man had committed some treasonable act. He was interested, of course, in the possibility of other traitors in the camp, but Sharpey’s lonely habits and temperament, as confirmed by Norman, suggested to him that he probably worked on his own. His first interest was therefore the nature of the information which had passed. It suited him very well that Longman, in his simplicity, should batten on the idea of defending the old man’s name. All Ramrod had to do was pooh-pooh this enough to make Longman determined to return to the lab and carry the experiment through to its bitter end. That this might be a distressing process was not relevant, because Ramrod could do the most dangerous thing that any man can do. He could wear blinkers. Recognize, therefore, what Longman did not recognize in this just Pontius Pilate with the controlled schizophrenia; in this kind, dyspeptic British bachelor, recognize the villain of this piece. He played it beautifully.
‘I have in fact seen your tank, but you can only be guessing—’ He allowed himself to be interrupted.
‘Major, please. Faraday was only guessing, at the start. All I’m suggesting, as politely as I can, is that you might take a closer look at what happens to the man in the tank. Consider what may have happened to Sharpey, before you close the book on him and file it under “T” for traitor.’
Ramrod did not seem to be convinced. He said, ‘It’s one thing to discuss a theory—’
‘So it is,’ Longman, predictably, grew more violent in his defence of Sharpey. ‘I admit I’m going along untracked country, because somewhere back along the track X marks the spot where I fell by the wayside. But what I mean to do is to demonstrate to you that a man can change in the tank. He can come out no longer responsible for his actions. If I can prove this, then you can click your heels and report back, “Dear Colonel Bogey, we got it wrong. Spies ain’t what they used to be.”’
Ramrod pushed it once again.
‘I understand your wanting to protect Sharpey’s name, but you shouldn’t forget that I hold a great deal of evidence against him.’
‘You bet! Neatly filed. But if my guess is right, Major, Sharpey’s file should have been closed a month ago when he – poor, dear, old, dedicated brave ass – sunk himself alone in that tank for far too long. A new file, labelled Z for Zombie, should have been begun. And Z for Zombie, not S for Sharpey should be filed alongside Guy Fawkes and all the other traitors. . . .’
‘You’re very eloquent. But how can you prove this?’
‘By putting somebody in the tank.’
Ramrod raised his eyebrows.
