Richard Long: Along came a swapper

"I'm Gene Harris," he said as he sat down beside Max. "You two feeling a little pooped?"

"Yes. I never thought I'd have enough sex, but I'm afraid I've reached the saturation point, at least for a time." Jackie confessed. "I'm Jackie Benson, and this is my husband, Max."

"Yes. I know who you are," Harris replied. "It's my business to know things like that."

"Oh? What line are you in?" Max asked.

"Private investigator."

"Are you investigating us?"

"No, just interested."

"What have we done that interests YOU?" Max persisted, a little irritated by the fellow's straightforward manner.

"It's more what you yourself are doing, Mr. Benson," Harris said flatly. "I've been retained to get a piece of information, and I think you might help me."

"Retained? By whom? And what information?"

"Uh-uh. Can't reveal the employer's name," the detective grunted, smiling shiftily. "Breach of confidence. It just tears hell out of professional ethics and all that. But the information? Well, I want to know when Walton will be ready to market their new surveillance system, the one you're working on."

"What?" Max demanded, outraged at the request. "I can't give out information like that… even if I knew! You must be out of your mind!"

"Not at all," Harris replied, complacent and confident. "Maybe you can't say when it'll be marketed, but you can sure as hell give me a good idea how far along the product is at this moment. That would satisfy my employer about as well, I imagine. How about it?"

"Not on your life," Max insisted. "I'm not about to go selling out my company."

"Perhaps you're sincere in saying that," Harris replied, getting to his feet, "but don't be surprised if you find yourself telling us everything."

"You'd better be surprised if I do," Max growled out as the man walked away.

Both he and Jackie decided that the brazen attempt to get information out of him had soured the evening for them. They agreed to gather their clothes, pay their respects to the host and hostess and drive home immediately. And this they did, with a minimum of delay.

Max was still boiling, with rage when they entered their apartment.

Throughout the weekend, Max periodically erupted with fresh rage at the effrontery of Gene Harris' request. More and more, as he thought about it, he wished he'd tried harder to learn who the impudent rascal's employer was. Then, he believed, he could have gone to Dr. Hensley with a clearer conscience, and made a clean breast of the entire sordid affair.

"But wouldn't it be rather embarrassing?" Jackie questioned him when he told her this. "I mean, it would all have to come out, that we'd been at a swapping party and that. Well, the whole bit!"

"Hensley's discreet enough," Max insisted. "I wouldn't mind telling him about it. I'd know it would never get any further than him. No need worrying about that."

By Sunday, the situation had gotten so bad that Max insisted on going over to Hal's apartment and demanding to know what he knew about Gene. Jackie consented to go along, though she feared that the trip would end in a quarrel with the Hudginses. Max denied harboring any such intent; he swore that he merely wanted to know if they knew anything about Harris. Even so, Jackie felt strong misgivings as she settled herself in the car and sat back for the short drive.

They had just pulled into a parking space when Max's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar figure emerging from the Hudgins' apartment. Their parking spot gave them a clear view of the entrance, and though the door to their friends' apartment was a good forty yards away, there could be no mistaking the figure coming out.

"That's him!" Max grunted out. "What's he doing there?"

Jackie too saw that it was the investigator. Hal had followed him out onto the balcony, and they stood there talking for a moment. Then Harris patted Hal's shoulder and walked away.

Max sat stiffly in the car, plainly puzzled by what he had seen. It seemed perfectly clear that Harris and Hal were boon companions; that was evident from the friendly way they'd parted.

"Maybe it's a continuation of the party," Jackie suggested, thinking that she might still dissuade Max from bursting in on their friends. "If they're still going, we shouldn't disturb them. I knew we should have called first!"

Max hesitated for a few moments, wrestling with Jackie's objection, but finally he decided they should go on up to the apartment and get it over with. Jackie shrugged, knowing she couldn't persuade him to change his mind. She went along silently.

"Hey, what a welcome sight!" Hal cried when he opened the door to them. "Come on it! Pris and I were just wondering if maybe we could get together with you for a recap of the party!"

He offered them a beer, dominating the conversation with his breezy manner so that Max couldn't jump immediately to the point, as he would have liked. They accepted the beer and settled down, but Max wouldn't be headed off from the purpose of his visit.

"Hal, I'd like to know what you know about that fellow Gene Harris who was at the party," he began.

Before he could go on to add the fact that he'd just seen Harris leaving the Hudgins' apartment, Hal broke in.

"Gene? Er, I barely know, him," he said, pausing a moment as if he were trying to remember the person. "To be truthful, that was the first time I'd ever seen him, Friday night. Seemed like a nice enough sort, but I didn't get a chance to talk much with him. I was… er, occupied elsewhere, you understand."

Max sat back and looked curiously at Hal, unable to reconcile the statement with the obvious camaraderie he had so recently witnessed on the balcony outside. He looked at Jackie, who returned his blank look, then turned back to Hal.

"The reason I'm asking," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "is because he asked me something about my work, something which was way out of line. In fact, it smacked rather strongly of industrial espionage."

"Harris? I can hardly believe it of him!" Hal said, putting down his beer and assuming a very earnest look. "That doesn't sound like anyone in our group. Sure you have the right fellow?"

Max vowed that there was no mistake. He was on the point of confronting Hal with the fact that he'd seen Harris outside not fifteen minutes ago, when Pris walked into the living room.

She wore one of Hal's old shirts, the cuffs rolled halfway to her elbows, and not much else, to judge from the way her sharp nipples shaped and darkened the thin fabric of the shirt. Jackie was certain that she caught a glimpse of Pris' curly pubic hair when the shirt's tail flipped aside for a moment; though the garment came down to her knees, the opening in front allowed a certain amount of visibility.

Pris' entrance disrupted the chain of conversation for a moment, but Hal brought them back on the track by telling Pris what he had heard from Max. She scoffed at the idea, though she also denied any intention of impugning Max's honesty.

"But what I don't understand," Max said, eyeing them both suspiciously, "is why I saw him coming out of your apartment when I drove up. Hal, it didn't look as though you two were just casual acquaintances!"

"What are you doing? Spying on me?" Hal demanded huffily.

Max would not be put off by such charges. He insisted that seeing Harris had been purely inadvertent, and that they had not intended to spy at all.

Hal persisted in trying to deny the fact, but then switched to claiming that Harris had just dropped by to thank them for a fine time at the party. Max would have none of this, and insisted angrily that the man was an industrial spy, probably working in collusion with Hal.

"All right, if you want to know the truth," Hal began, spreading his hands helplessly and assuming a guileless expression. "I'll tell you just how it is. Harris and his boys have plenty on me. They've had spies at several of the parties we attended, spies with all the fixings, just like in the movies. I mean tape recordings, movies made through one-way glass… the whole, bit. Naturally, they've got film of Pris and me in some pretty compromising situations, and tapes too. They've been pressuring me to hand them stuff from my work. And I'll tell you something: they're going to try the same thing on you; no mistake about it! I'm sure they had movies made of you and some of the girls at that party. Maybe of Jackie too. And they won't bother slandering you all over the state to get what they want!"