He felt ill at ease partly because they were so different from each other. Dawson was six feet two, broad in the shoulders, narrow at the hips, athletic. Salsbury was five feet nine, slope-shouldered, and twenty pounds overweight. Dawson had thick graying hair, a deep tan, clear black eyes, and matinee-idol features; whereas Salsbury was pale with receding hair and myopic brown eyes that required thick glasses. They were both fifty-four. Of the two, Dawson had weathered the years far better.
Then again, Salsbury thought, he began with better looks than I did. With better looks, more advantages, more money…
If Dawson radiated authority, Salsbury radiated servility. In the laboratory on his own familiar turf, Ogden was as impressive as Dawson. They were not in the laboratory now, however, and he felt out of place, out of his class, inferior.
“How is Mrs. Dawson?”
The other man smiled broadly. “Wonderful! Just wonderful. I’ve made thousands of good decisions in my life, Ogden. But she was the best of them.” His voice grew deeper and more solemn; it was almost theatrical in effect. “She’s a good, God-fearing, church-loving woman.”
You’re still a Bible thumper, Salsbury thought. He suspected that this might help him achieve what he had come here to do.
They stared at each other, unable to think of any more small talk.
“Sit down,” Dawson said. He went behind the desk while Salsbury settled in front of it. The four feet of polished oak between them further established Dawson’s dominance.
Sitting stiffly, briefcase on his knees, Salsbury looked like the corporate equivalent of a lap dog. He knew he should relax, that it was dangerous to let Dawson see how easily he could be intimidated. Nevertheless, knowing this, he could only pretend relaxation by folding his hands atop his briefcase.
“This letter. – .” Dawson looked at the paper on his blotter.
Salsbury had written the letter, and he knew it by heart.
Dear Leonard:
Since we left Harvard, you’ve made more money than I have. However, I haven’t wasted my life. After decades of study and experimentation, I have nearly perfected a process that is priceless. The proceeds in a single year could exceed your accumulated wealth. I am entirely serious.
Could I have an appointment at your convenience? You won’t regret having given it to me.
Make the appointment for “Robert Stanley,” a subterfuge to keep my name out of your date book. As you can see from the letterhead on this stationery, I direct operations at the main biochem research laboratory for Creative Development Associates, a subsidiary of Futurex International. If you know the nature of CDA’s business, you will understand the need for circumspection.
As ever, Ogden Salsbury
He had expected to get a quick response with that letter, and his expectations had been met. At Harvard, Leonard had been guided by two shining principles: money and God. Salsbury had supposed, and rightly, that Dawson hadn’t changed. The letter was mailed on Tuesday. Late Wednesday Dawson’s secretary called to make the appointment.
“I don’t ordinarily sign for registered letters,” Dawson said sternly. “I accepted it only because your name was on it. After I read it I very nearly threw it in the trash.”
Salsbury winced.
“Had it been from anyone else, I would have thrown it away. But at Harvard you were no braggart. Have you overstated your case?”
“You’ve discovered something you think is worth millions?”
“Yes. And more.” His mouth was dry.
Dawson took a manila folder from the center desk drawer. “Creative Development Associates. We bought that company seven years ago. You were with it when we made the acquisition.”
“Yes, sir. Leonard.”
As if he had not noticed Salsbury’s slip of the tongue, Dawson said, “CDA produces computer programs for universities and government bureaus involved in sociological and psychological studies.” He didn’t bother to page through the report. He seemed to have memorized it. “CDA also does research for government and industry. It operates seven laboratories that are examining the biological, chemical, and biochemical causes of certain sociological and psychological phenomena. You’re in charge of the Brockert Institute in Connecticut.” He frowned. “The entire Connecticut facility is devoted to top secret work for the Defense Department.” His black eyes were exceptionally sharp and clear. “So secret, in fact, that even I couldn’t find out what you’re doing up there. Just that it’s in the general field of behavior modification.”