“Of course,” Simon said.
“I hope you won’t mind then if I ask you to take a pair of tests here, even though you have already done them.”
“Not at all. I’d be delighted to do something to repay you for your lavish hospitality.”
“Not mine,” Edelhof said modestly. “You must thank...”
He stopped as if something had derailed his thoughts in mid-sentence.
“Whom?” asked the Saint.
“The Foundation,” Edelhof replied lamely.
“It would be a little easier to thank an individual.”
Edelhof, over the hump, gave a relieved laugh.
“Then I accept for the Foundation.”
“Good. And I accept the challenge of the tests.” He looked around. “Would you like me to...”
“Please. We can get it out of the way immediately. If the young lady will excuse us...”
Simon turned to Jenny...
“After that long trip, a little siesta would do you good,” he said. “I’ll meet you on the beach later and we can go skin diving.”
“The tests won’t take more than an hour and a half,” offered the psychiatrist.
“Then I’ll see you by the equipment locker around four,” Simon said. “All right?”
“All right,” Jenny agreed reluctantly, and she went on into the lobby as Simon followed Edelhof past the blue-tinted windows to a door at the opposite end of the dining room.
“You enjoy the Death Game, Mr Tombs?”
“It fascinates me. In fact, I found it so intriguing that when I was involved in it I lost interest in everything else.”
Had Edelhof been a dog, his ears would have perked up a good inch.
“Is that so?” he asked, opening the door toward which he had led Simon. “It’s good to have enthusiasm.”
They entered a hallway lined with closed doors on either side.
“In fact,” Simon said in a lower voice, with a mixture of diffidence and great seriousness, “I’d like to speak with you about... the guidance you mentioned.”
“Ah,” said Edelhof, bringing down the volume of his voice to match the Saint’s. “That is fine. The world has places for men of exceptional abilities, if only the proper contacts are made.” He opened one of the doors on the left. “But before we discuss that, it’s best that you complete these little formalities.” He stood in the doorway before letting Simon in. “I might say, however, before giving you any help we must request complete discretion on your part. We can be of no service to you unless we feel assured that all that passes between us will be kept in strictest confidence. Any discussion, even with your closest friends, would necessitate an abrupt end... to our negotiations.”
“I understand,” the Saint said very solemnly.
Edelhof stood aside to let him go through the door.
“I hope so. Now. This will eventually be an office for resort personnel, but for the moment I have managed to confiscate it. Have a seat at the desk, please, and I shall give you the tests.”
The paneled room offered a sparkling view of the sea across the marina, where the white forty-five foot cruiser Simon had seen from the limousine still rode at its moorings, fishing outriggers swaying like long antennae across the chain of smaller islands which stretched away toward the southeastern horizon. The room itself was furnished only with a desk and chair, a mirror built into one wall, a filing cabinet which Edelhof unlocked and relocked in the process of taking out the test booklets, and a ship-to-shore radio on a small table beside the window.
“Beautiful boat,” Simon said, sitting down in the swivel chair as Edelhof had indicated. “Yours?”
“Oh,” said the doctor with a smile, turning up his eyes and making a deprecating gesture with his hand. “Oh, no. It belongs to the owner. Now, if you will just...”
“Is he here?”
Edelhof was putting the two booklets on the desk, along with a pen.
“Who?” he asked.
“The owner. I wondered if he lived here — or on the boat.”
“No. Now, If you will please answer all the questions, I’ll come back when you’ve finished. The first is a standard aptitude test. The second is more specialized.”
“Specialized?” Simon asked innocently.
“You have seen it before, I’m sure. It’s the one especially fitted to players of the Death Game.”
Simon opened the booklet and glanced at the first questions.
“I remember this one. Very interesting.”
“I’m glad you found it so.”
A moment later Edelhof was gone, and Simon devoted himself to answering multiple choice questions concerning the relative heat of his interest in art galleries and boxing matches, talking to girls and walking alone, going to parties and reading books. And while he was at it, would he prefer a book about love or a book about war? Did he feel embarrassed or pleased when people asked him for advice? Would it irritate him to have to give up plans of his own to help a friend whose car had broken down — none, a little, some, considerably, very much?
It did not take a great deal of thought to determine which answers to which questions would make the most favorable impression on Timonaides’ consulting psychologists. On the other hand, Simon had to take into account the devious nature of the minds of the test’s creators, who would try to introduce subtle safeguards against deliberate slanting. But it was not very difficult to detect those safeguards either, and when he had finished the first test, the Saint felt certain that any psychiatrist worth even half his fees would discern in Mr Sebastian Tombs clear signs of the incipient killer.
Turning to view the bright sea through the window for a minute before going on to the second test, Simon noticed the cruiser which had been moored to the dock heading southeast about two hundred yards from shore. He remembered then having heard, on the periphery of his consciousness, an engine cough into life just a few minutes before, while he was engrossed in the final questions of the test. Almost idly, he drew a mental line from his location through the boat, and projected it straight on to the first of the islands, about a mile away. He noted, not so idly, that the boat continued directly on course, as if his imaginary line held it magnetized.
Finally the craft was an indistinct dot on the white feather of its wake, and it still showed no signs of deviating to port or starboard. The phenomenon seemed worth remembering, and Simon fixed in his mind the location of the island which seemed to be the boat’s destination. Naturally, there might be no significance at all in what he had seen, but just in case the boat was not out for a pleasure ride or a fishing expedition, the observation might prove worthwhile.
As he went to work on the second booklet, the Saint realized that it was not so much a test as a questionnaire. There were a few initial queries about personal statistics, hobbies, and ambitions. But the “test” questions which followed were designed to draw forth indirectly information which would probably have been refused if requested outright. The written responses to imaginary situations described in the quiz, when interpreted by a skilled analyst, could give deep insight into the subject’s attachments, loyalties, hostility toward authority, greed, respect for law and truth, and so on and on.
It was simple for Simon to form a clear mental picture of the kind of individual Timonaides would wish to recruit, and then to answer the questions accordingly. He was most impressed with the gall it took to design and administer such a test when he reached the final question — which was no more than an overt version of several asked in different forms already.
Would you play the Death Game with actual murder as the objective for a) 500 b) 1000 c) 5000 d) 10,000 or more e) no amount of money or other reward, however great? (In answering this question, try to pretend that it is not hypothetical, and take careful stock of your true reactions before giving a reply.)