John Katzenbach - The Analyst

It seemed to Ricky that the woman was about to dismiss him, when a younger man, in his early thirties, slightly overweight and slightly balding, wearing pressed khaki slacks, an expensive designer sport shirt, and highly polished, tasseled loafers, emerged from the back of the office. It was a most curious appearance, because he was overdressed for lifting and carrying, underdressed for conducting business. The clothes he wore were ostentatious and expensive, and stated that appearance, even in genuinely informal circumstances, was somehow governed by stiff rules. What Ricky saw was that there was nothing relaxed about the man’s clothes to relax in.

“I’m Merlin,” the man said, removing a folded linen handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his hands before offering one in Ricky’s direction. “If you will forgive the chaotic nature of our surroundings, we could perhaps speak for a few moments in the conference room. Most of the furniture is still there, although for how much longer is an open question.”

The attorney gestured toward a door.

“Would you like me to take notes, Mr. Merlin?” the woman asked.

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t think we’ll be all that long.”

Ricky was ushered into a room dominated by a long cherry-wood table and chairs. There was an end table at the rear of the room with a coffee machine and a jug with glasses. The attorney pointed toward a seat, then went and inspected the machine. Shrugging, he turned to Ricky.

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Merlin said. “No coffee left, and the water jug appears empty, too. I can’t offer you anything.”

“That’s all right,” Ricky replied. “I didn’t come here because I was thirsty.”

This response made the lawyer smile. “No. Of course not,” he said. “But I’m not sure how I can help-”

“Merlin is an unusual name,” Ricky interrupted. “One wonders whether you’re a conjuror of sorts.”

Again the lawyer grinned. “In my profession, Doctor Starks, a name such as mine is an advantage. We are frequently asked by clients to pull the proverbial rabbit out of a top hat.”

“And can you do this?” Ricky asked.

“Alas, no,” Merlin answered. “I have no magic wand. But, on the other hand, I have been singularly successful at forcing reluctant and recalcitrant opposition rabbits to emerge from places of concealment in all sorts of hats, relying, of course, less on magical powers than on a torrent of legal papers and a blizzard of legal demands. Perhaps in this world, these things amount to the same. Certain lawsuits seem to function in much the same way that curses and spells did for my namesake.”

“And you are moving?”

The attorney reached down and extracted a small, crafted-leather card case from a pocket. He removed a card and handed it across the table to Ricky. “The new digs,” he said, not unpleasantly. “Success brings a demand for expansion. Hiring new associates. Need room to stretch.”

Ricky looked at the card, with a downtown address. “And am I to be another pelt on your wall?”

Merlin nodded, grinning not unpleasantly. “Probably,” he said. “In fact, it is likely. I shouldn’t really be speaking with you, doctor, especially without your attorney present. Why don’t you have your lawyer call me, we can go over your malpractice insurance policy… You are insured, aren’t you, doctor? And then get this thing settled swiftly and profitably for all involved.”

“I carry insurance, but I doubt whether it would cover the complaint your client has invented. I don’t think I’ve had a reason to read the policy in decades.”

“No insurance? That’s bad… And invented is a word I might take exception to.”

“Who is your client?” Ricky demanded abruptly.

The lawyer shook his head. “I am still not at liberty to divulge her name. She is in the process of recovery and-”

“None of this ever happened,” Ricky sliced through the lawyer’s words. “It is all a fantasy. Made up. Not a word of truth. Your real client is someone else, true?”

The attorney paused. “I can assure you my client is real,” he said. “As are her complaints. Miss X is a very distraught young woman…”

“Why not call her Miss R?” Ricky asked. “ R as in Rumplestiltskin. Wouldn’t that be more appropriate?”

Merlin looked a bit confused. “I don’t know that I follow your thinking, doctor. X , R , whatever. That’s not really the point, is it?”

“Correct.”

“The point, Doctor Starks, is that you are in real trouble. And, trust me, you want this problem to disappear from your horizon just as quickly as humanly possible. If I have to file suit, well, then the damage will be done. Pandora’s box, doctor. All the evil things will just come flying out. Everything will become a part of some public record. Allegations and denials, although, in my experience, the denial never manages to have quite the same impact as the allegation, does it? It’s not the denial that sticks in people’s memories, is it?” The lawyer shook his head.

“At no time have I ever abused a patient’s trust in the manner alleged. I do not believe this person even exists. I have no record of such a patient.”

“Well, doc, that’s dandy. I hope you’re one hundred percent right about that. Because,” as he spoke, the lawyer’s voice dipped an octave and the intonation of each word gained a razor-sharp edge, “by the time I get through interviewing every patient you’ve had for the past decade or so, and talking with every colleague you’ve ever had a dispute with, and examining every facet of what you better hope is your saintlike life and certainly every second you’ve spent behind that couch, well, whether or not my client exists is not going to be completely relevant, because you will have absolutely no life and no reputation left. None, whatsoever.”

Ricky wanted to respond, but did not.

Merlin continued to stare directly at Ricky, not wavering even slightly.

“Do you have any enemies, doctor? How about jealous colleagues? Do you think any of your patients over the years have been less than pleased with their treatment? Have you ever kicked a dog? Maybe failed to brake when a squirrel ran out in front of your car up there at your vacation house on Cape Cod?”

Merlin smiled again, but now the smile had turned nasty.

“I already know about that place,” he said. “A nice farmhouse in a lovely field on the edge of a forest with a garden and with just a little bit of ocean view. Twelve acres. Purchased from a middle-aged woman whose husband had just died back in 1984. Sort of took advantage of the bereaved in that transaction, huh, doc? Do you have any idea how the value of that property has increased? I’m sure you do. Let me suggest to you, Doctor Starks, one thing and one thing only. Whether or not there’s the slightest bit of truth involved in my client’s allegation, I’m going to own that property before this is finished. And I’m going to own your apartment, and your bank account at Chase, and the retirement account at Dean Witter that you haven’t yet dipped into, and the modest stock portfolio you keep with the same brokerage firm. But I’ll start with the summer place. Twelve acres. I think I can subdivide and make a killing. What do you think, doc?”

Ricky listened to the lawyer, reeling internally.

“How do you know-” he started lamely.

“I make it my business to know,” Merlin cut him off rapidly. “If you didn’t have something I wanted, I wouldn’t be bothering. But you do, and trust me on this, doc, because your lawyer will tell you the same, the fight isn’t worth it.”

“My integrity is certainly worth it,” Ricky replied.

Merlin shrugged again. “You’re not seeing clearly here, doctor. I’m trying to tell you how to leave your integrity more or less intact. You rather foolishly believe that this has something to do with being right or wrong. Telling the truth rather than lying. I find this intriguing, coming from a veteran psychoanalyst such as yourself. Is the truth, in some wondrously authentic and clear-cut fashion, something that you hear often? Or are truths hidden, concealed, and covered up with all sorts of curious psychological baggage, elusive and slippery once identified? And never exactly black or white, either. More like shades of gray, brown, and even red. Isn’t that what your profession preaches?”