"It may be easier than you think," I said. "The doctors made X-rays of this medicine man when he was still in a fetal stage, and it looks as though they've deformed or injured him."
"That won't make any difference," said Singing Rock. "The spell was made when he was still whole and well, and that's what counts."
"Can you actually make him leave Karen Tandy?"
"I hope so. I don't think I'll have the power to divert him right back to the 1650s. That would take a very strong and experienced medicine man — somebody much more powerful than me. But what I can do is get him out of her, reverse the growth inside her, and redirect it to someone else."
I felt a chill. "Someone else? But you can't wish that on someone else. What's the point of saving Karen Tandy's life if we kill another person?"
Singing Rock puffed at his cigar. "I'm sorry, Mr. Erskine. I thought you understood the problems. There's no other way of doing it."
"But who will the manitou go to?"
"It could be anybody. You have to realize that he'll be fighting for his own existence, and he'll look for any host that is weak and receptive."
I sighed. All of a sudden, I felt very tired. It's not at all easy, battling against something that doesn't know the meaning of physical exhaustion, and which is totally committed to its own survival.
"If what you're saying is true, Singing Rock, then you might as well fly straight back to South Dakota."
Singing Rock frowned. "But surely you wouldn't object if we transferred the manitou to someone useless — like a hopeless drug addict, maybe, or a bum from the Bowery, or a Negro criminal?"
"Singing Rock, that's out of the question. This whole thing has happened because one race exercised prejudice against another. If it hadn't been for the way the Dutch threatened this medicine man back in 1650, he wouldn't be here now, threatening us. I can't see that there's any justification for doing the same thing all over again to another racial minority. I mean, we'd just be perpetuating the evil."
The Indian medicine man in the mohair suit looked across at me curiously.
"That's pretty funny, hearing that from a white man," he said. "My father and my grandfather and my great-grandfather before him, they all felt the same way about white men. Unscrupulous devils with hearts of stone. Now, when you've finally taught us how to be as hard and uncompromising as you, you turn soft on us."
The Cougar hissed along the wet highway. A ray of yellow sunlight fell across our laps.
"Well, maybe it's easy for us to be soft now," I said. "We've got everything we want, and now we've done that, we can afford to be charitable. But whatever the reason, I can't justify transferring the manitou into someone else, no matter what race they are, and no matter how broken-down they are. It just goes against the grain."
"Okay," said Singing Rock. "Then we have an alternative. But I warn you, it's much more dangerous."
"What is it?"
"We wait until the medicine man emerges from Karen Tandy's body."
"But that will kill her — she'll be dead."
"In the accepted sense, yes. But her own manitou, or spirit, will continue to live inside the medicine man. So she won't be past saving."
By now, we were well into Manhattan, and I slowed up and stopped at a red light.
"I don't understand."
"It isn't easy, I admit," said Singing Rock. "But once the medicine man has emerged, we'll have some ability to deal with him physically. We may be able to imprison him, provided we do it with spells as well as bars. And then we can actually force him to return Karen Tandy's manitou to her."
"Force him?" I asked. "How?"
"By invoking the power of Gitche Manitou. All lesser manitous are subject to the greater influence of the Great Spirit"
"But couldn't he do the same thing — and kill you?"
Singing Rock thoughtfully sucked his cigar. "Of course. That's the chance I'd have to take."
"And would you take it?"
"If it was worth my while."
"And how much is worth my while."
"Twenty thousand dollars."
I grimaced. "Okay. I don't blame you. I'd want a hell of a lot more than that to risk my life."
"In that case," said Singing Rock, tossing his cigar out of the window, "thirty thousand."
By now, it was all up to Karen Tandy's parents. No one else could pay the price of Singing Rock's medicine, and no one else had the right to let him work it. I took Singing Rock back to my flat on
Tenth Avenue
, and he showered and drank coffee while I called up Karen's parents. I told them who I was, and they invited me over for lunch. I just hoped their food wouldn't stick in their throats when they heard what Singing Rock was suggesting.
We reached Mrs. Karmann's apartment at one o'clock. The glazier had been around that morning, and the window that had been smashed during the seance was repaired. It was warm and expensive and cozy in there, but there was a distinctly awkward atmosphere.
Jeremy Tandy was a dry-looking, fair-haired man in his middle fifties. He wore a dark Nixonite suit, and his shirt was white and immaculate. His face had something of the elfishness of Karen, but it was matured and beaten into a harder and less compromising form.
His wife, Erica Tandy, was a light, slight woman with brown flowing hair and startlingly large eyes. She wore a black Dior suit, and contrasted it with simple gold jewelry. I was fascinated by her long gleaming fingernails, and her $5,000 Piaget wristwatch.
Mrs. Karmann was there, too, fussing around and trying to make everybody feel comfortable. She needn't have bothered. We all felt awkward and odd, and no amount of small talk could do anything about it.
"I'm Harry Erskine," I said, wringing Jeremy Tandy's hand as firmly as I could. "And this is Mr. Singing Rock, from South Dakota."
"Just Singing Rock will do," said Singing Rock.
We sat down on chairs and settees, and Jeremy Tandy passed round cigarettes.
"Dr. Hughes told me you had an interest in my daughter's case," said Jeremy Tandy. "But so far he hasn't told me who you are or what you do. Do you think you can enlighten me?"
I coughed. "Mr. Tandy — Mrs. Tandy. A lot of what I'm going so say now will sound far-fetched. All I can tell you is that I was just as skeptical as you when I first found out about it. But the evidence is so overwhelming that everyone who knows anything about your daughter's illness has had to agree that this is probably — I won't say definitely — the cause of it."
Step by step, I explained how Karen had come to me and told me about her dream. I told them how I had tracked down the Dutch ship, and how Amelia had raised the spirit of the medicine man. I told them about the reincarnation of medicine men, and our visit to Dr. Snow in Albany. And then I told them about Singing Rock, and what he was going to try to do, and how much it would cost.
Jeremy Tandy listened to all this impassively. Every now and then he sipped at a glass of brandy, and he chain-smoked as he listened, but otherwise his face betrayed no sign of emotion.
When I'd finished, he sat back and looked at his wife. She seemed bewildered and confused, and I couldn't blame her. When you told it straight and cold, it was a pretty fantastic thing to swallow.
Jeremy Tandy leaned forward and looked me square in the eye.