"Richard Matheson - Hell House" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matheson Richard)

"By giving me _facts_," Deutsch answered irritably.
"Where am I to find them? I'm a physicist. In the twenty years I've studied
parapsychology, I've yet to--"
"If they exist," Deutsch interrupted, "you'll find them in the only place on earth I know
of where survival has yet to be refuted. The Belasco house in Maine."
"_Hell House?_"
Something glittered in the old man's eyes.
"Hell House," he said.


Barrett felt a tingling of excitement. "I thought Belasco's heirs had it sealed off after
what happened--"
"That was thirty years ago." Deutsch cut him off again. "They need the money now; I've
bought the place. Can you be there by Monday?"
Barrett hesitated, then, seeing Deutsch begin to frown, nodded once. "Yes." He couldn't
let this chance go by.
"There'll be two others with you," Deutsch said.
"May I ask who--?"
"Florence Tanner and Benjamin Franklin Fischer."
Barrett tried not to show the disappointment he felt. An over-emotive Spiritualist medium,
and the lone survivor of the 1940 debacle? He wondered if he dared object. He had his own group of
sensitives and didn't see how Florence Tanner or Fischer could be of any help to him. Fischer had
shown incredible abilities as a boy, but after his breakdown had obviously lost his gift, been
caught in fraud a number of times, finally disappearing from the field entirely. He listened, half-
attentive, as Deutsch told him that Florence Tanner would fly north with him, while Fischer would


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meet them in Maine.
The old man noted his expression. "Don't worry, you'll be in charge," he said; "Tanner's
only going because my peopie tell me she's a first-class medium--"
"But a mental medium," said Barrett.
"--and I want that line of approach employed, as well as yours," Deutsch went on, as
though Barrett hadn't spoken. "Fischer's presence is obvious."
Barrett nodded. There was no way out of it, he saw. He'd have to bring up one of his own
people after the project was under way. "As to costs--" he started.
The old man waved him off. "Take that up with Hanley. You have unlimited funds."
"And time?"
"That you don't have," Deutsch replied. "I want the answer in a week."
Barrett looked appalled.
"Take it or leave it!" the old man snapped, sudden, naked rage in his expression. Barrett
knew he had to accede or lose the opportunity--and there _was_ a chance if he could get his
machine constructed in time.
He nodded once. "A week," he said.