The chairman considered. “Then it might be something personal.”
“Agreed, sir.”
“The usual woman trouble?”
“My God! We should have such trouble! In his private life, The Nose turns into The Stud.”
“Family?”
“He’s an orphan, Mr. Chairman.”
“Ambition? Incentive? Should we make him an officer of CCC? I believe we have a vice-presidency open.”
“I offered that to him the first of the year, sir, and he laughed at it. He just wants to play around with his chemicals.”
“Then why isn’t he playing?”
“What the hell’s the matter with him, anyway.”
“Which is how you started this meeting.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“Not.”
The chairman broke in again, his heavy voice sounding like a controlled roar, “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Please! It would appear that Dr. Shima has personal problems which are stifling and/or blocking his superb genius. We must solve them for him. Is it urgent?”
“It is, Mr. Chairman. Sales has already booked over a million in advance orders for ‘Dil-d’Eau.’ It will be a disaster for our future credibility if we don’t fill them, and I hate to think what it will do to Shima’s reputation.”
“I see. Suggestions?”
“Psychiatry?”
“That won’t work without voluntary cooperation. I doubt whether he’d cooperate. He’s a stubborn gook.”
“Senator!” the chairman chided. “I beg you. Such expressions must not be used with reference to one of our most valuable assets.”
“Mr. Chairman, you said our problem is to solve his problem.”
“I did, governor.”
“Then shouldn’t we find out what it is first?”
“Your point is well taken, governor. Suggestions?”
“I think the first step might be to maintain a twenty-four-hour covert surveillance; all of the gook’s—Excuse me! All of the good doctor’s activities, associates, contacts, and so forth.”
“Very good, senator. By CCC Security?”
“I would suggest not, sir. There are bound to be internal leaks and finding out would only antagonize the good gook—I mean doctor!”
“Outside surveillance, then?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Suggestions?”
“We’ve used Skip-Trace Associates in the past, sir. They’ve always done an honest and efficient job.”
The chairman considered, then arose and lumbered out with the gait of a lazy crocodile. Enroute, he called over his shoulder, “Very good. Agreed. Meeting adjourned.”
* * *
“Ladies, this is a dreary bore.” The Queen Bee flowed with gracious exasperation. “Learning all those spooky spells and burning all those smelly smells, and absolutely nothing happens. No Lucifer. Not even an assistant demon. I vote for a change.”
“Couldn’t agree more, Regina,” Oodgedye said. “Let’s try something else, but no more Latin.”
“And no more Hebrew. My face still feels backwards.”
“Ladies, your cruise director speaking.”
“We tremble with suspense, Regina.”
“I’m more like trembling from the cold.” Nell Gwyn’s milky skin showed goose bumps. “I’m congealed, Regina.”
“Pi-girl! More peat on the grate. Quick now. And put the kettle on the hob. We’ll have coffee.”
“Only recycled bathwater left, Miz Regina.”
“It’ll do. Ladies, my game-plan. What would you all say to an old-fashioned quilting bee?”
“A what bee?”
“A quilting bee. Women persons used to hold them ages ago. They got together every so often, just like us, and sewed patchwork quilts.”
Sarah Heartburn was astonished. “You mean those BEAUTIFUL things were actually all !!!handmade!!! by H*A*N*D? I always thought museums produced them by spontaneous combustion.”
“I always thought the word was ‘spontooneous.’”
“Oh hush, Mary,” Regina laughed. “Yes, they were sewn by hand and we can make one, if you like.”
“I like, Regina.” Yenta Calienta looked shrewd. “But which of us gets it when we’re finished?”
“None of us. We’ll sell it to a museum and buy gallons of lovely scent for all of us.”
“Heaven! Count me in, brrr!” Nell Gwyn shivered. “Anybody else in favor? Hands, please. Not you, Pi, you don’t get to vote. One, two, three, four… Six out of eight. Oodgedye and Udgedye dissenting, as usual.”
“We’re not dissenting. We’re recusing.”
“What does that mean? Is it dirty?”
“Another time, Priss. So what now, Regina?”
“The problem is cloth patches, Nell. Colorful ones, and real cloth; nothing recycled.”
“No problem, Regina. My Droney has a fantastic collection of antique silk ties. There are lots of dupes he’ll never miss. I’ll pinch them.”
“Beautiful, Nell. There’s a fascinating design in one of my wicked books, and we’ll start next session. Pi! The coffee! I must say, a quilting bee will be a relief from trying to get in touch with silly old Satan.”
* * *
Skip-Trace Associates, Inc. was furious. It was the first time the firm had failed for a valued client, and somehow they felt they had been deceived. After two weeks the general manager threw the case back into CCC’s lap, asking for nothing more than expenses.
“Why in hell didn’t you tell us we were assigned to a pro, Mr. Chairman, sir? Our tracers aren’t trained for that. We only handle deadbeats.”
“Just a moment, please. What do you mean by ‘pro’?”
“A professional rip.”
“A what?”
“A ripjack. Gorill. Gimp. Crook. Geek. Goon.”
“Our Dr. Shima a crook? Preposterous!”
“Look, Mr. Chairman, sir, I’ll frame it for you and you draw your own conclusions. Yes?”
“By all means.”
“It’s detailed in this report anyway. We put a double-trace—that’s two tails, shadows, ops—on Shima every day outside your shop. You didn’t need us inside. When he left, they followed him. He always went straight home. No meetings, outside of girls. No contacts, outside of girls. No nothing. Yes?”
“Go on.”
“We staked his Oasis in double shifts. It’s got prime protection, so that was easy. He had dinner sent in every night from the Organic Nursery, which is a legit place on a pure-food-nothing-added gig. Our ops checked the delivery boys. Legit. They checked the meals—sometimes for one, mostly for two. Legit. No tincts, no chromes, no mords, no tinges, no nothing.”
“Excuse me. I don’t understand what you’re referring to.”
“That’s all right, sir. It’s street language; Guff talk for the squeams—that’s drugs—they’re tripping on these days.”
“Thank you.”
“Our ops tailed the girls who left his penthouse and checked them. All clean. So far all clean. Yes?”
“And?”
“Now here’s the crunch. Couple of nights a week he leaves his place and goes out into the Guff. He leaves around midnight and doesn’t come back until four, more or less, give or take half an hour.”
“Where does he go?”
“Ah! That’s the unch in the crunch. We don’t know. We don’t know because he shakes his tails like the pro that he is. He weaves through the Guff like a whore or a faggot cruising for trade, and he always shakes our ops. I’m not putting them down. They’re good, but he’s better. He’s smart, shifty, quick, a real pro, and he’s too much for Skip to handle.”
“Then you have no idea of what he does or who he meets between midnight and four these several nights a week?”
“No, sir. We’ve got nothing, and you’ve got a problem. Not ours anymore. Sorry to let you down. Expenses is all we ask.”
“Thank you. Now, contrary to the popular conception, corporations are not altogether callous. CCC understands that negatives are also results. In fact, it was Dr. Shima himself who taught us that. You have given us results, and I’m satisfied. You’ll receive your expenses and the agreed fee as well.”