The Best of Sydney J Bounds: Volume One by Sydney J Bounds

Author:Sydney J Bounds [Bounds, Sydney J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Venture Press
Published: 2016-02-12T00:00:00+00:00

GRANT IN AID

I had my feet up and a bottle tilted to my lips when the door opened and in walked a young man. He closed the door quickly behind him. He was nice-looking, blond, dressed in casuals, thick-soled shoes and rope tie.

“My name is Wilson,” he said, “and I want to hire you.”

I lowered my feet and the bottle, spilled a package of cigarettes across the desk and motioned him to the visitors’ chair.

“Fine,” I said. “I need a retainer of three hundred bucks. Blackmail or divorce?”

He placed some money on the desk and I admired the crispness and design of it. It was a hot day. I had the window open and the blind down, and traffic sounds floated up to my office on the fifth floor “I want you to find out why a man named Lazarus is giving me money,” he said.

My thoughts stopped wandering. “Say that again!”

“Lazarus has given me a hundred thousand dollars to continue my research into psi faculties. I want to know why.”

I released the blind so that it ran up and let the sunlight pour over his face. He blinked, but that was all.

“In my job,” I said, “I hear some crazy things — but you look okay.”

“I’m as sane as the next man,” he admitted, “but curious.”

I lit a cigarette and regarded him with steady concentration.

“Suppose you start from the beginning, Mr. Wilson …”

“Following the pioneering work of Dr. Rhine at Duke University, lots of institutions nowadays are interested in psi research,” Wilson said. “I’ve been working at it myself, quite independently, for the last three years — and I’ve been aiming to take the whole business a step further. What I’m after is a practical application of psi.”

He paused, with an expression on his face that showed he expected me to be impressed. So I nodded.

“Three years,” he repeated. “I was just beginning to get somewhere when my money ran out. It looked like I’d have to throw in my hand and find a job. Then I was tipped off about Lazarus — he might help if I showed him the results of my work.”

“Who tipped you off?” I asked.

“A friend of mine, Charlie Miller. He’s been researching into hypnosis. Lazarus helped him with money when he needed it, so I wrote to Lazarus, enclosing my results and projected program. I received one hundred thousand by return of post and no strings attached.”

“I’m in the wrong racket,” I said. “I’d sure like to meet this Lazarus.”

“So would I,” Wilson said, staring me out.

“Mystery man, huh?”

Wilson nodded. “He has an office on Wall Street. I went along there to express my thanks in person. I didn’t get to see Lazarus — the man I saw called himself Tracey. He was small and old, cagey as hell — told me Lazarus never met anybody, that all communications went through him.”

Wilson pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and passed it across the desk. “I did some digging on my own account,” he said.

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