and yet there is no record of a single tax deduction, no returns …”
“They donate their salaries
in toto
to the Parapsychic Center. They lease their services contractually to the various employers. The Parapsychic Center files a corporate form to cover them. Under Corporation Law.…”
“No one in their right minds would …” Rambley bounced on the end of his chair with indignation and disbelief.
“I never said any of the parapsychic Talents were in a right mind. In fact,” Henry went on with gentle amusement, “there is every reason to believe that the core of the parapsychic is, if anywhere, in the left hand part of the brain.”
“Mr. Darrow,” Mr. Rambley was on his feet. “You did say that you gave government officials the courtesy due their office?”
“Yes, didn’t I? Consequently, you’re wasting time, your government’s and mine, Mr. Rambley. The individuals represented by those neatly slotted cards do donate their total income to the Parapsychic Center. Our accountant will be glad to show you the appropriate records and contractual agreements …”
“But … but I
know
that that Titter Beyley creature is driving a four passenger 350 horsepower vehicle!” Such an incongruity shocked Mr. Rambley.
“Yes, Titter’s always wanted to drive a big one. The car belongs to the Center. You can check the registration papers.”
“And that … that Charity McGillicuddy has a blue ranch mink coat.”
“Indeed she has. She requisitioned it from Stores about four months ago.”
“She requisitioned … from Stores?”
“She has a position to maintain now and her appearance is of great concern to the LEO office. Think how embarassing it would be for someone employed by the LEO Commission to be arrested for wearing stolen furs. Of course, Charity says that now she can buy ’em instead of ‘lifting’ ’em, half the fun’s gone. But it gives her a great moral boost to wear blue ranch mink in the LEO Block. We try to keep our workers happy.”
Rambley had stared at Henry Darrow through this ingenuous explanation but his indignation rose with every gently spoken word.
“This won’t be the last you’ll hear from me, Mr. Darrow. You do not mock the Internal Revenue Department, Mr. Darrow.” He slammed the file cards into his case, hands trembling with outraged dignity. “You’ll hear from us.”
“That’s fine by me. Just call ahead for an appointment. Only consider the fact that Senators Maxwell, Abrahams, Montello and Gratz approved our corporate structure.”
Rambley’s eyes widened.
“And the presidential advisor, Mr. Killiney, acted as our financial assistant. Don’t you have
his
card in that file?”
Rambley exited, reduced to mutterings.
“Do you often trick your way into a private home, Mr. Darrow?”
“When I’ve been unable to secure an appointment any other way, yes, Mr. Henner.” Henry smiled pleasantly, trying not to glance with obvious envy at the spaciousness of the magnificently furnished living room. Such accommodation was almost archaic.
George Henner appeared more amused than irritated by Henry Darrow’s impertinence as he leaned back in his Italian brocade armchair.
“If it’s money for your palm-reading, table-tilting crystal-gazing tricks, forget it.”
“On the contrary, sir. I’ve affirmation that I can ask you to join our happy band.” Henry smiled at the surprise in Henner’s yellowed eyes.
“Join you?” Henner burst out laughing. His head went back showing a veritable gold field of fillings in his upper teeth. “By God, Darrow, you’ve made my day! If you can’t lick ’em, recruit ’em?”
“Actually,” Henry went on smoothly, seating himself and crossing his legs, counterfeiting an ease he didn’t feel. He noted the flicker of irritation in Henner’s face but the financier had a reputation of letting a man have enough rope to hang himself. “Actually, Mr. Henner, your abilities in the financial world are as solidly