Alfred Bester: The Demolished Man

To those who come after me: The test of intellect is the

refusal to belabor the obvious. If you have opened this letter we

understand one another. I have prepared four general murder plans

which may help you. I bequeath them to you as part of your Reich

inheritance. They are outlines. The details must be filled in by

yourself as your time, your environment, and necessity require.

Caution: The essence of murder never changes. In every era

it remains the conflict of the killer against society with the

victim as the prize. And the ABC of conflict with society remains

constant. Be audacious, be brave, be confident and you will not

fail. Against these assets society can have no defense.

Geoffry Reich

Reich leafed through the plans slowly, filled with admiration for the first of his line who had had the fore-thought to prepare for every possible emergency. The plans were out-dated but they kindled imagination; and ideas began forming and crystallizing to be considered, discarded, and instantly replaced. One phrase caught his attention:

If you believe yourself a natural killer, avoid planning too carefully. Leave most to your instinct. Intellect may fail you, but the killer instinct is invincible.

"The killer instinct," Reich breathed. "By God, I've got that."

The phone chimed once and then the automatic switched on. There was a quick chatter and tape began to stutter out of the recorder. Reich strode to the desk and examined it. The message was short and deadly:

CODE TO REICH: REPLY WWHG.

"WWHG. `Offer refused.' Refused! REFUSED! I knew it!" Reich shouted. "All right, D'Courtney. If you won't let it be merger, then I'll make it murder."

Augustus Tate, E.M.D. 1, received Cr. 1,000 per hour of analysis... not a high fee considering that a patient rarely required more than an hour of the doctor's devastating time; but it placed his income at Cr. 8,000 a day or well over Cr. 2 million a year. Few people knew what proportion of that income was paid into the Esper Guild for the education of other Telepaths and the furthering of the Guild's Eugenic plan to bring Extra Sensory Perception to everyone in the world.

Augustus Tate knew, and the 95% he paid was a sore point with him.

Consequently, he belonged to "The League of Esper Patriots," an extreme right-wing political group within the Guild, dedicated to the preservation of the autocracy and incomes of the upper grade Espers. It was this membership that placed him in Ben Reich's BRIBERY (POTENTIAL) category. Reich marched into Tate's exquisite consultation room, glanced once at Tate's tiny frame---a figure slightly out of proportion but carefully realigned by tailors. Reich sat down and grunted: "Peep me quick."

He glared in concentration at Tate while the elegant little peeper examined him with a glittering eye and spoke in quick bursts: "You're Ben Reich of Monarch. Ten billion credit firm. Think I should know you. I do. You're involved in a death struggle with the D'Courtney Cartel. Right? You're savagely hostile toward D'Courtney. Right? Offered merger this morning. Coded message: YYJI TTED RRCB UUFE AALK QQBA. Offer refused. Right? In desperation you have resolved to---" Tate broke off abruptly.

"Go ahead," Reich said.

"To murder Craye D'Courtney as the first step in taking over his cartel. You want my help... Mr. Reich, this is ridiculous! If you keep on thinking like this, I'll have to commit you. You know the law."

"Clever-up, Tate. You're going to help me break the law."

"No, Mr. Reich. I'm not in a position to help you."

"You say that? A 1st Class Esper? And I'm supposed to believe it? I'm

supposed to believe you're incapable of outwitting any man, any group, the whole world?" Tate smiled. "Sugar for the fly," he said. "A characteristic device of---"

"Peep me," Reich interrupted. "It'll save time. Read what's in my mind. Your gift. My resources. An unbeatable combination. My God! It's lucky for the world I'm willing to stop at one murder. Together we could rape the universe."

"No," Tate said with decision. "This won't do. I'll have to commit you, Mr. Reich." "Wait. Want to find out what I'm offering you? Read me deeper. How much am I willing to pay? What's my top limit?" Tate closed his eyes. His mannequin face tightened painfully. Then his

eyes opened in surprise. "You can't be serious," he exclaimed.

"I am," Reich grunted. "And what's more, you know it's an offer in good faith, don't you?"

Tate nodded slowly.

"And you're aware that Monarch plus D'Courtney can make the offer good."

"I almost believe you."

"You can believe me. I've been financing your League of Esper Patriots for five years. If you've peeped me deep enough yon know why. I hate the damned Esper Guild as much as you do. Guild ethics are bad for business... lousy for making money. Your League is the organization that can break the Esper Guild some day..."

"I've got all that," Tate said sharply.

"With Monarch and D'Courtney in my pocket I can do better than help your faction break the Guild. I can make you President of a new Esper Guild for life. That's an unconditional guarantee. You can't do it alone, but you can do it with me."

Tate closed his eyes and murmured: "There hasn't been a successful premeditated murder in 79 years. Espers make it impossible to conceal intent before murder. Or, if Espers have been evaded before the murder, they make it impossible to conceal the guilt afterwards."

"Esper evidence isn't admitted in court."

"True, but once an Esper discovers guilt he can always uncover objective evidence to support his peeping. Lincoln Powell, the Prefect of the Police Psychotic Division, is deadly." Tate opened his eyes. "D'you want to forget this conversation?"

"No," Reich growled. "Look it over with me first. Why have murders failed? Because mind-readers patrol the world. What can stop a mind-reader? Another one. But no killer ever had the sense to hire a good peeper to run interference for him; or if he had the sense, he couldn't make the deal. I've made the deal."

"Have you?"

"I'm going to fight a war," Reich continued. "I'm going to fight one sharp skirmish with society. Let's look at it as a problem in strategy and tactics. My problem's simply the problem of any army. Audacity, bravery, and confidence aren't enough. An army needs Intelligence. A war is won with Intelligence. I need you for my G-2."

"Agreed."

"I'll do the fighting. You'll provide the Intelligence. I'll have to know where D'Courtney will be, where I can strike, when I can strike. I'll take care of the killing myself, but you'll have to tell me when and where the opportunity will be."

"Understood."

"I'll have to invade first... cut through the defensive network surrounding D'Courtney. That means reconnaissance from you. You'll have to check the normals, spot the peepers, warn me and block their mind-reading if I can't avoid them. I'll have to retreat after the killing through another network of normals and peepers. You'll have to help me fight a rear-guard action. You'll have to remain on the scene after the murder. You'll find out whom the police suspect and why. If I know suspicion is directed against myself, I can divert it. If I know it's directed against someone else, I can clinch it. I can fight this war and win this war with your Intelligence. Is that the truth? Peep me."

After a long pause, Tate said: "It's the truth. We can do it."

"Will you do it?"

Tate hesitated, then nodded with finality. "Yes. I'll do it."

Reich took a deep breath. "Right. Now here's the course I'm plotting.

I think I can set up the killing with an old game called `Sardine.' It will give me the opportunity to get at D'Courtney, and I've figured out a trick to kill him; I know how to fire an antique explosive gun without bullets."