“That was for my expenses. Airline fares, car rentals, meals and
lodging while I was working on the case.”
Smiling as if he had made his point, Prine said, “Do they usually pay
your expenses?”
“Naturally. I can’t be expected to travel all about, spending thousands
of my own money for-”
“Did the Havelocks pay you?”
“My expenses.”
“But didn’t you lust tell us a minute ago that the Havelocks didn’t pay
you anything?”
Exasperated, Graham said, “They didn’t pay me. They just reimbursed me
for-”
“Mr. Harris, forgive me if I seem to be accusing you of something you
haven’t done. But it occurs to me that a man with your reputation for
performing psychic miracles could easily take many thousands of dollars
a year that is.”
from the gullible. If he was unscrupulous, ,Look here-”
“When you’re on one of these investigations, do you ever pad your
expenses?” Prine asked.
Graham was stunned. He slid forward on his chair, leaned toward Prine.
“That’s outrageous!” He realized that Prine had settled back and
crossed his legs the instant that he got a strong reaction. That was a
clever maneuver that made Graham’s response seem exaggerated. He
suddenly felt as if he were the predator. He supposed that his
justifiable indignation looked like the desperate and weak self-defense
of a guilty man. “You know I don’t need the money. I’m not a
millionaire, but I’m well fixed. My father was a successful publisher.
I received a substantial trust fund. Furthermore, I’ve got a moderately
successful business of my own.”
“I know you publish two expensive magazines about mountain climbing,”
Prine said. “But they do have small circulations. As for the trust
fund…. I hadn’t heard about that.”
He’s lying, Graham thought. He prepares meticulously for these shows.
When I walked into this studio, he knew almost as much about me as I
know about myself. So why is he lying? What will he gain by
slandering me? What in hell is happening here?
The woman has green eyes, clear and beautiful green eyes, but there is
terror in them now, and she stares up at the blade, the shining blade,
and she sucks in her breath to scream, and the blade starts its
downward,arc…
The images passed as suddenly as they had come, leaving him badly
shaken. He knew that some clairvoyantincluding the two most famous,
Peter Hurkos and his fellow Dutchman Gerard Croiset-could receive,
interpret and catalogue their psychic perceptions while holding an
uninterrupted conversation. Only rarely could Graham manage that.
Usually he was distracted by the visions.
Occasionally, when they had to do with a particularly violent murder, he
was so overwhelmed by them that he blanked out reality altogether.
The visions were more than an intellectual experience; they affected him
emotionally and spiritually as well. For a moment, seeing the
green-eyed woman behind his eyes, he had not been fully aware of the
world around him: the television audience, the studio, the cameras,
Prine. He was trembling.
“Mr. Harris?” Prine said.
He looked up from his hands.
“I asked you a question,” Prine said.
,I’m sorry. I didn’t hear it.”
As the blood exploded from her throat and her cream eyes he watched it
run down, down with a stream down between her bare breasts, and he
nearly laugh mania tber scowls nor guns, and he does not ally but goes
about the killing in a workmanlike manner, as if this is his profession,
as if this is just a job, as if this is no different froma man selling
cars for a living or washing windows, Merely a tluk to be it rite a e
lood nishedstaband pand ar ndbringth b welling up in Pools … and then
stand up and go home and sleep contentedly, satisfied with a job well
done.
Graham was shaking uncontrollably. His face was greasy with
perspiration, yet he felt as if he were sitting in a cool draft. His
own power scared him. Ever since the accident in which he had nearly
died, he had been frightened of many things; but these inexplicable
visions were the ultimate fear.
“Mr. Harris?” Prine said. “Are you feeling all right?”
The second wave of impressions had lasted only three or four seconds,