Read Chase: Roman for Free Online Page B

My name's Ben Chase.’
        ‘Oh, yes!’ Miss Pringle said, as if it were a small joy to be hearing from him. ‘Good morning, Mr Chase.’ She rattled the pages of an appointment book and said. ‘Your regularly scheduled visit is this Friday afternoon at three.’
        ‘I have to see Dr Cauvel before that,’ Chase said. When he first conceived of this irregular contact, he had not been at all sure if it was wise. Now it seemed not only wise, but wildly important. ‘I must see him.’
        ‘Tomorrow morning we have half an hour -’
        Chase interrupted her. ‘Today.’
        ‘I beg your pardon?’ Miss Pringle said, her joy at hearing his voice having diminished appreciably.
        ‘I want an appointment today,’ Chase repeated.
        Miss Pringle attempted to inform him of the heavy work load the doctor carried and of the extra working hours necessary in each day for the doctor to study case histories of new patients. He had to read the latest journals and write his own occasional articles for those same prestigious publications. It was clear that Miss Pringle somewhat idolized him, and Chase wondered whether she slept with him. In all the times he had seen her, such a thought had never occurred to him. Uneasily, he realized that it was a sign of changing circumstances - changes in his life utterly beyond his control. But perhaps they were not beyond the doctor's control. When she was halfway through her set speech, having recovered a bit of her plastic, warm tone of friendship, Chase interrupted her, and in a few well-chosen words, convinced her to ask Dr Cauvel himself.
        A few minutes later, chagrined, Miss Pringle returned to the phone to tell Chase he had an appointment for four o'clock that same afternoon. Clearly, she was perturbed that the rules should be broken for him. She must have known that the government paid the tab and that Cauvel received less compensation for his time than he would have by indulging a wealthy neurotic. What she had quite forgotten to include in her detailed schedule of the doctor's day, however, was time to have extra sessions with patients whom the doctor considered especially intriguing.
        It helped, if one had to be slightly mad, to have a very unique sort of madness…
        
        At eleven-thirty, while Chase was dressing to go out for lunch, Judge called again. His voice sounded better, though still not normal. He said, ‘How are you feeling this morning?’
        ‘Well,’ Chase said, though that was a lie.
        ‘Be expecting a call at six this evening,’ Judge said.
        ‘Look here -’
        ‘At six o'clock sharp, Mr Chase. Do you understand me?’ He spoke with the smooth authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed. ‘I will have several interesting points to discuss with you, I'm sure.’
        ‘I understand,’ Chase said.
        Judge said, ‘Have a good day, now.’
        They broke the connection at the same moment. Chase slammed his receiver into its cradle. Hard.
        
        The room on the eighth floor of the Kaine Building, in the centre of the city, did not resemble a psychiatrist's counselling chamber as the image had been established in countless films and books. For one thing, it was not small and intimate, not at all reminiscent of the womb. It was a pleasant, musty, rambling chamber, perhaps thirty feet by thirty-five, with a high and shadow-shrouded ceiling. Two of the walls contained bookshelves that ran from floor to ceiling; one wall was dressed with paintings depicting tranquil country scenes, while the fourth wall was nothing but white plaster and two large windows. The bookshelves contained only a handful of expensively bound volumes, along with close to three hundred glass dogs, none larger than the palm of a man's hand and most a good deal smaller than that. Collecting glass dogs was Dr Cauvel's hobby.
        Just as the room - with its battered desk, heavily padded easy chairs and