Part 4 (1/2)
Bors frowned. He was interested now.
”I've another Talent,” pursued Morgan. ”He ought to be a paranoiac. He has all the tendencies to suspicion that a paranoid personality has. But his suspicions happen to be true. He'll read an item in a newspaper or walk past, oh, say a bank. Darkly and suspiciously, he guesses that the newspaper item will suggest a crime to someone. Or that someone will attempt to rob the bank in this fas.h.i.+on or that, at such-and-such a time. And someone does!”
”He'd be an uncomfortable companion,” Bors observed wryly.
”I found him in jail,” said Morgan cheerfully. ”He'd been warning the police of crimes to come. They happened. So the police jailed him and demanded that he name his accomplices so they could break up the criminal gang whose feats he knew in advance. I got him out of jail and hired him as a Talent in Talents, Incorporated.”
Bors blinked.
”Before we landed here,” said Morgan, ”I'd told him about the political situation, the events you expect. He immediately suspected that the Mekinese would have a s.h.i.+p down somewhere, to blast the fleet of Kandar if it should dare to resist. In fact, he said positively that such a cruiser was waiting word to fire fusion-bombs.”
Bors blinked again.
”And I spread out maps,” said Morgan, ”and my dowser went over them--not with a hazel twig, but something equally unscientific--his instinct--and he a.s.sured me that the cruiser was under water five miles north-north-east magnetic from Cape Farnell. The map said the depth there was fifty fathoms. Then my paranoid Talent observed that there'd be spies on sh.o.r.e with means to signal to the submerged cruiser. My dowser then found a small shack on the map where a communicator to the s.h.i.+p would be. With the information about the arrival of the liners, and the facts about the cruiser--and I had other information too--I went to the Ministry for Diplomatic Affairs and told you. As you know, the information I gave you was accurate.”
Bors felt as if he'd been hit over the head. This was ridiculous! He'd hunted for the s.p.a.ce-cruiser under the sea because the prediction of the liner's arrival was so uncannily correct. He'd helped plan and carry out the destruction of that wars.h.i.+p because its existence and location were verified by a magnetometer. But if he'd known how the information was obtained, if he'd known it was guessed at by a discharged s.p.a.ceport employee, and a paranoid personality, and a man who used a hazel twig or something similar.... If he'd known that, he'd never have dreamed of accepting it. He'd have flatly dismissed the s.h.i.+p-arrival prediction!
But, if he hadn't trusted the information enough to check on it, why, the small s.p.a.ce-fleet of Kandar would vanish in atomic flame when it tried to take off to fight. With it would vanish Bors, and his uncle, and the king and many resolute haters of Mekin.
Gwenlyn said, ”You're perfectly right, Captain.”
”What's that?” asked Bors, numbly.
”It is stark-raving lunacy,” said Gwenlyn pleasantly. ”Just like it would have seemed stark-raving lunacy, once upon a time, to think of people talking to each other when they were a thousand miles apart. Like it seemed insane to talk about flying machines. And again when they said there could be a s.p.a.ce-drive in which the reaction would be at a right angle to the action, and especially when somebody said that a way would be found to drive s.h.i.+ps faster than light. It's lunacy, just like those things!”
”Y-yes,” agreed Bors, his thoughts crowding one another. ”It's all of that!”
Morgan nodded his head rapidly.
”I felt that way about it,” he observed, ”when I first got the idea of finding and organizing Talents for practical purposes. But I said to myself, 'Lots of great fortunes have been made by people a.s.suming that other people are idiots.' In some ways they are, you know. And then I said to myself, 'Possibly a fortune can be made by somebody a.s.suming that _he_ is an idiot.' So I a.s.sumed it was idiotic to doubt something that visibly happened, merely because I couldn't understand it. And Talents, Incorporated was born. It's done quite well.”
Bors shook his head as if to clear it.
”It seems to have worked,” he admitted. ”But if I'd known--” He spread out his hands. ”I'll play along! What more can you do for us?”
”I've no idea,” said Morgan placidly. ”Such things have to work themselves out, with a little prodding, of course. But one of my Talents says the lightning-calculator Talent is the one who'll do you the most good soonest. I'd suggest--”
There was a murmur of voices from the cabinet room. The door opened and King Humphrey came out. He looked baffled, which was not unusual. But he looked enraged, which was.
”Bors!” he said thickly. ”I've always thought I was a practical man! But if being practical means what some members of my cabinet think, I would rather be a poet! Bors, do something before my cabinet dethrones me and tricks the fleet into disbanding!”
He stumbled across the room, not noticing Morgan or Gwenlyn. Bors came to attention.
”Majesty,” he said, not knowing whether he spoke in irony or bewilderment, ”I take that as an order.”
The king did not answer. When the door on the other side of the room closed behind his unregal figure, Bors turned to Morgan.
”I think I've been given authority,” he said in a sort of baffled calm.
”Suppose we go, Mr. Morgan, and find out what your lightning calculator can do in the way of mental arithmetic, to change the situation of the kingdom?”