Earth Unaware (UC), page 14
No. As he had grown older, it had become increasingly obvious just how small a chance Ed Wonder had of ever becoming a big executive with underlings to do his bidding, telephones and intercoms in which to snap his profound orders. In fact, at the time of his first confronting of Ezekiel Joshua Tubber, he had about decided that his sole chance was going to be through marriage with Helen Fontaine.
But now he was a big executive.
And Helen Fontaine was one of his assistants.
So was Buzz De Kemp, and Ed was acquiring more assistants by the minute. In fact, he was swamped with them and couldn't remember the names of a fraction.
Dwight Hopkins' promise of resources couldn't have been more highly fulfilled. Within a quarter hour, Ed Wonder had been assigned a suite of offices. Within the hour, his staff was moving in. Among others were Mr. Yardborough, whose first name turned out to be Cecil, and Bill Oppenheimer and Major Leonard Davis. Two of the leg men were Johnson and Stevens, and Ed's liaison man with Dwight Hopkins was Colonel Fredric Williams. Hopkins had decided that Project Tubber should be on the ultra-hush side, in view of its nature, and assigned to it anyone who had already anything to do with Wonder's investigation. Had the story broken in the newspapers, Hopkins suspected even his gilt-edge reputation wouldn't have been done any good.
Ed stared gloomily at his desk screen.
He hadn't the vaguest idea where to begin. In his files were nothing more than his own report on Tubber, Buzz's report and that of Helen Fontaine. It was no use looking at them. He knew everything covered. Which was precious little.
He flicked the screen to life and cleared his throat. "Miss… ah—" He had forgotten his receptionist's name.
"Randy, sir. Randy Everett."
Ed looked at her and sighed. "Randy, on you the Homespun Look is unfortunate."
"Well, yes sir. But to tell you the truth, if I wear cosmetics…"
"You itch."
Her eyes widened. "How did you know?"
"I'm a crystal gazer," Ed told her. "Look, send in Mr. De Kemp." He flicked off the intercom. It was his first act as head of Project Tubber.
Buzz came shambling in, stogie at the tilt. He looked about the office appreciatively and whistled softly between his teeth. "So, at long last Little Ed Wonder is a big shot. Work hard, save your money, and vote straight Democratic Republican and you too can get to the top. Shucks, you didn't even have to marry the boss' daughter."
"Shut up," Ed told him, "or I'll get General Crew to draft you into the service." He grunted at the picture. "Buzzo De Kemp, the sloppiest yardbird in the army."
"Jollies we get," Buzz said, dropping into a chair.
'Tisten, Buzzo," Ed said. "What do I do first?"
Buzz looked at the tip of his stogie critically, then let his eyes go around the office in thought. "We might go about finding out what a curse is. The next time we—you, that is, I'm going to be A.W.O.L. at that point—the next time you go up against Tubber, it'd be better if you had some ammunition."
"A curse? Everybody knows what a curse is."
"So fine. What?"
Ed thought about it. He flicked his desk switch. "Major Davis, please." Lenny Davis' face appeared in the screen.
"Yes, sir." The major wasn't yet quite used to having as his chief the man he'd been interrogating and considering throwing out of the office but a day previously.
Ed said, "We want to find out just what a curse is. Send in some scientists who know what curses are."
The major looked at him blankly. "What kind of scientists know what a curse is, sir?"
"How would I know?" Ed told him curtly. He flicked off the set.
Buzz De Kemp was impressed.
Ed said, "What do we do now?"
"Have lunch," Buzz told him. "We ought to pick up Helen. What's Helen doing?"
"She's in charge of the Homespun Look department," Ed said. "She's going to find out everything possible about the Homespun Look."
Buzz looked at the end of his stogie. "That's a good idea. You got some scientists working with her?"
Ed Wonder pursed his lips. "No. You're right. If we've got unlimited resources, we better use them. The devil only knows
how much time we've got before Tubber goes into his act again. He flicked on his desk switch. "Major Davis."
The major's face was even slightly more harassed than it had been the evening before, Ed decided. The major said, "Yes, sir."
"Lenny," Ed told him, "send up a few scientists to Miss Fontaine's office. We want to know what it is that makes women itch.
The major opened his mouth, shook his head, and closed it again. "Yes, sir."
When the army man's face had faded from the screen, Buzz looked at it thoughtfully. "You know," he said, "I don't think the major is going to last very long. He's already getting sort of a greenish look around the gills."
Ed Wonder stood up. "There's more where he came from," he said.
When they got back from lunch and crossed the outer offices of Ed Wonder's suite, he could only notice that they'd moved in another score or so of staff, and a selection of I.B.M. machines complete with operators and files of punched cards. Ed wondered vaguely what they were going to use them for. Possibly nothing. Dwight Hopkins probably just wanted them to be handy and ready, just in case a use for them did come up.
Randy, his receptionist, said, "Professor McCord is waiting in your office, Mr. Wonder."
"Who the devil is Professor McCord?"
"Major Davis sent him, sir."
"Oh. He's probably an expert on either hexes or itching, then."
After Ed and Buzz had entered the inner office, Randy Everett looked after them for a long frustrated moment, somewhat as though she had put her last dime in a pay telephone and got the wrong number.
Professor McCord came to his feet at their entry. They went through the usual banalities, finally winding up seated.
Professor McCord said, "I was picked up by two security officers and rushed here to your office. I submit that although I am available for my country's service, I haven't the vaguest idea of…" -
Ed said, "What are you a professor of?"
"Ethnology, specializing in the African Bantu tribes."
Buzz said, selecting a fresh stogie from his jacket pocket. 'The major is sharper than I thought he was. Professor, what is a curse?"
The other's eyes came around to the newspaperman. "You mean is the sense that a witchman might curse someone?" When the two nodded, he went on. "It is the expression of a wish that evil befall another. A calling down of something wicked, harmful on some victim."
"Well, that's not exactly the word, possibly," Ed Wonder said. "Possibly the word I want is spell, or hex."
The professor obviously hadn't the vaguest idea of what they wanted of him. He said, "A spell is usually a combination of words, or pretended words, supposed to accomplish something magical The term, if I'm not mistaken, is derived from the Old English. A hex is much the same thing, an act of witchcraft. It is American idiom, originally derived from the Germanic" The professor was frowning puzzlement.
So were both Ed Wonder and Buzz De Kemp.
Ed said, "I know, I know. But I didn't want just definitions. Now, take one of your Bantu witchdoctors. He puts a spell on somebody, usually because somebody else paid him to do it, right? Okay. Just what does he do?"
Professor McCord looked at him blankly.
Buzz said, "How does he go about it? How is it accomplished?"
The professor said, "Well, in actuality, each witchman will have a different procedure. Usually an elaborate mumbo-jumbo involving unusual ingredients to stir together, and an incantation involving magical words."
Ed leaned forward. "We know that. But, what we wanted to know was, just what is a curse? You know, what is it…?"
The professor blinked at him.
"What we're trying to do is find out what a curse, a hex, a spell really is."
"Why, I just told you."
They looked at each other for a long unprofitable moment. Finally, he said. "Do you believe in the devil? You know, Lucifer?"
"No. What has that got to do…"
"Or black magic?"
"I don't believe in any kind of magic"
Ed had him. He pointed a finger. "Then how come a witchdoctor can cast a spell on somebody? Don't tell me they can't. Too much evidence exists."
"Oh," Professor McCord nodded. "I see what you're driving at, at last. Do you know what a liban is? I took my doctorate in their study."
"I thought on my kooky Far Out Hour I'd heard of everything in this line, but evidently not."
The ethnologist's face took on a pleased expression. "The libans are such a vital part of African witchcraft that I'm amazed they are known so little. A liban isn't exactly a witch-man, since he's born into the caste and can't enter into it from outside. They're just a handful of families, not numerous. He's the Eminence grise in the tribe and they wouldn't dare do anything without his advice. For instance, if the warriors are going out on a raid, he lets them know whether or not it's going to be a success, gives them little bags of sacred dust, or some such, to tie to their daggers. What I wish to impart is that the liban is not a fake. His position is hereditary, comes down for a thousand years and more. Believe me, if a liban puts a curse on a tribesman, the curse works."
"How?" Buzz said flatly.
The professor looked at him. "Because everybody involved knows it will work. The victim, the liban, and all the other members of the tribe."
It was the same sort of answer Ed had got from Varley Dee. It accomplished nothing. The fact of the matter was, hardly anybody, of all the billions of persons involved, even knew that Ezekiel Joshua Tubber existed, not to speak of knowing he was laying hexes right and left.
Buzz said to Ed, "What's all this about libans got to do with Tubber?"
"Tubber?" Professor McCord said. 'Tubber who?"
"Ezekiel Joshua Tubber," Ed said wearily. "You wouldn't know about him."
"You mean Josh Tubber?" McCord said. "Academecian Ezekiel Joshua Tubber?"
"Academecian?" Buzz said.
"Josh was taking his academecian degree in political economy while I was studying for my doctorate," McCord said. "A surpassing scholar."
Ed Wonder closed his eyes in mute appeal to the higher up.
But Buzz said quickly, "Then you knew him when he was younger. Look, at that time did he have any ideas about starting, say, a new religion? A religion with a lot of socio-economic angles?"
Ed said, "More important, did he ever say anything to you about an ability, a power to curse things? To put a spell on, well, ha ha, say TV?"
Professor McCord said, "Don't be ridiculous."
Ed flicked his desk switch. "Bill Oppenheimer," he said.
Oppenheimer's face filled the screen. It was the first time Ed Wonder had seen the other since his interview of the day before. Oppenheimer said, "Yes, sir."
Ed said, "You're now in charge of backtracking on Tubber. As a beginning, we've got a line on his schooling. He took an academecian's degree in economics at…" he put a hand up to hold Oppenheimer and looked at McCord. "What college?"
"Harvard."
Ed Wonder looked at him in reproach. "It couldn't have been some jerkwater college in the Bible belt. It has to be Harvard." He looked back at Oppenheimer. "Harvard. Put a team on this. We want everything, anything, we can get on Tubber. What he studied. Every book he ever opened has to be analyzed, word for word. Run down his classmates, and find out every detail they can remember. Dig into his social life. Latch onto any women he ever dated, they'd be at least middleaged by now. He's got a daughter. Find out who he married. What happened to her. If she's still alive… Well, I don't have to tell you. We want a complete rundown on every phase of Tubber's life. Clear this with General Crew, if necessary. If you need manpower, there's the F.B.I., the C.I.A. and the Secret Service."
"Got it," Oppenheimer said. "Yes, sir." His face faded from the screen.
Buzz said, 'That's telling them. Little Ed, you've got the makings of a really big cheese."
McCord said, somewhat intrigued, "If you're interested in checking on Josh Tubber, you won't get much at Harvard. He took only his academecian's degree there. As I recall, he took his doctorate at the Sorbonne, and, if I'm not mistaken, studied
earlier at either Leyden or Heidelberg. Classical Philosophy, I believe."
"Philosophy?" Ed Wonder repeated.
"A predilection for Ethical Hedonism, as I recall," McCord nodded.
Buzz finished his drink, as though desperate. "Hedonism,'* he said. "Tubber? You mean like the eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die, bit?"
"Hedonism goes further into reality than that, you know," McCord said stiffly. "Briefly, Epicurus taught that men not only in fact seek pleasure, but further that they ought to do so since pleasure alone is good. However, his definition of pleasure is the crucial…"
"All right," Ed said. "So Tubber put in a hitch studying philosophy. Look, Professor, I'm going to turn you over to a brace of my assistants who'll take down everything you can remember about Tubber, and also everything you can think of about libans, witchdoctors, spells and curses."
When the professor was gone, Ed looked at Buzz who looked back at him.
Finally Ed flicked his screen and said, "Major Davis." When Davis' face faded in, Ed said, reproachfully, 'Xenny, ethnologists might be scientists but they don't know what curses are. Round us up some scientists who can tell us what a curse is. Snap into this, Lenny. We want results."
Major Leonard Davis looked at htm plaintively, opened his mouth in what was obviously going to be protest or at least complaint, but then dosed it again. "Yes, sir," he said. "Scientists who know what a curse is." His face faded.
Buzz said approvingly, "You're catching onto this routine fast."
They looked at each other some more.
Finally Ed flicked on his switch and said, "Get me James C Westbrook. He lives just south of Kingsburg."
Randy said, "Yes, sir," and in moments, Jim Westbrook's face faded in on the screen.
He said, "Hello, Little Ed. Sorry, I'm awfully busy. If you don't mind…"
Ed Wonder ignored his words. 'Xisten, the other day when we were talking about miracles, you said you believed in them. That is, that you believe in things happening that we can't explain by our present scientific knowledge."
Jim Westbrook, in the phone screen, looked as though he were in a hurry, but he took the time to say, "I'm glad you qualified, friend, I don't like the term miracle."
Ed said, "Well, look, do you believe in hexes?" He waited for the other's disclaimer.
"Sure," Westbrook said. "I've looked into the subject a bit."
"Now, I'm not talking about this voodoo sort of thing where the victim is convinced he's going to fall sick if the voodoo priest puts a spell on him, and then, of course, does. I mean…"
Westbrook said,"Really, I'm in a hurry but… Look, friend, the witchman does not have to convince his victim he's going to be a victim. The victim gets convinced because he does get sick. I've found that it most bodaciously is not something to play games with. It does not depend on faith or belief, on either the part of the victim or of the practitioner. In the same way that dowsing rods work for people who are completely positive they don't work."
"Go on," Ed told him.
"Hexing happens the same way. I found out one Halloween party. If you want some, well, unusual, let's say, emotional feelings, try figuring out how to go about taking off a hex you didn't believe you could put on, because hexes don't exist, only the poor victim is very well hexed and you don't know anything about unhexing whatsoever. Friend, it's about six degrees worse than the amateur hypnotist who's gotten somebody into a trance, imposed a posthypnotic suggestion, and now can't unsuggest the thing. At least, there are books on hypnotism in the libraries to tell what to do in that case. But try finding a book on unhexing somebody you've accidently and unbelievingly hexed. Friend, it's a matter of I didn't know the gun was loaded!"
Jim Westbrook began to say more, but then darted a glance down at his wrist. "Listen, Little Ed, I can't spend any more time with you talking about hexes."
"That's what you think," Ed grinned at him.
Westbrook scowled. "What does that supposed to mean, friend?"
Ed said, happily, "You've just been drafted into talking your head off about every aspect of hexes you know about, paL"
The other said, 'Tittle Ed, you better see a doctor. So long." He cut the connection.
Ed Wonder said happily, "Stereotype, eh?" He flicked the intercom switch. "Major Davis," he said.
The major's face came on and he said, both warily and wearily, "Yes, sir."
"There's a James C. Westbrook, who lives on the outskirts of Kingsburg. Have him brought in immediately and take down everything he knows about hexes. And, Major, listen. He might not want to come. However, he's, ah, crash priority. You'd better send four men."
"Yes, sir, to speed things up, do we have anything else on him, sir. Where does he work? What does he do? He might not be at home." .
Ed Wonder said, "He's a consulting engineer, specializes on rhabdomancy."
"Rhabdomancy," Major Davis said blankly.
"Yes, rhabdomancy, radiesthesia. He operates dowsing rods."
Major Davis looked as though he had been cruelly hurt. 'Tes, sir. Crash priority. Pick up this man who operates dowsing rods." His face faded pathetically from the screen.
10
Ed "Wonder had been assigned an apartment in the New Woolworth Building while Helen Fontaine and Buzz De Kemp found accommodations in nearby hotels. In the morning, Ed Wonder got down to his office early, but evidently not early enough. His assistants, male and female, in the outer offices were in a flurry of activity. He wondered, vaguely, what they were doing. He hadn't issued enough in the way of directions to have kept a fraction of them busy.
