The Analyst by John Katzenbach Read Free Book Online Page B

could simply pass on to me and end this foolishness once and for all.”
    Virgil shook her head. “Alas, no, Ricky. Mr. R. is not so naive as to fail to insulate his identity from mere factotums, such as myself. And, even if I could help you, I wouldn’t. Hardly be sporting. Imagine if the poet and his guide had looked up at the sign that said ‘All hope abandon, ye who enter here!… ‘ and Virgil had shrugged and said, ‘No shit. You don’t want to go in there… ‘ Why, that would have ruined the poem. Can’t write an epic about turning away at the gates of Hell, can you, Ricky? Nope. Got to walk through that doorway.”
    “Why, then, are you here?”
    “I told you. He thought you might doubt his sincerity-though that young lady with the stodgy and utterly predictable dad up in Deerfield who had her teenage emotions rearranged so easily should have been message enough for you. But doubts sow hesitation and you have only two weeks left to play, which is a short enough time. Hence, he sent a bona fide guide to get you jump-started. Me.”
    “All right,” Ricky said. “You keep talking about this game. Well, it is not a game to Mr. Zimmerman. He has been in analysis for slightly less than a year, and his treatment is at an important stage. You and your employer, the mysterious Mr. R., can screw around with me. That’s one thing. But it is altogether something different when you involve my patients. That crosses a boundary…”
    The young woman called Virgil held up her hand. “Ricky, try not to sound so pompous.”
    Ricky stopped and stared harshly at the woman.
    She ignored this look, and with a small wave of her hand, added, “Zimmerman was elected to become part of the game.”
    Ricky must have looked astonished, because Virgil added, “Not so eagerly at first, I’m told, but with an odd sort of enthusiasm after a short time. But I wasn’t a participant in that particular conversation so I can’t help you with those details. My role was different. I’ll tell you who did get involved, however. A middle-aged and somewhat disadvantaged woman who calls herself LuAnne, which is a pretty name, admittedly unusual and not very fitting given her precarious position on this planet. Anyway, Ricky, when I leave here, I think you’d be wise to have a talk with LuAnne. Who knows what you might learn? And, I’m certain you will pursue Mr. Zimmerman for an explanation, but I’m quite sure he will not be so readily available. As I said, Mr. R. is very wealthy and accustomed to getting his way.”
    Ricky was about to demand a better clarification; the words were partway formed on his lips, when Virgil stood up. “Do you mind,” she said huskily, “if I remove my raincoat?”
    He gestured widely with his hand, a motion that spoke of acceptance. “If you like,” he said.
    She smiled again, and slowly unbuttoned the front snaps and unfastened the belt around the waist. Then, in a single, abrupt motion, she shrugged the coat from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor.
    She wore nothing beneath.
    Virgil placed one hand on her hip and cocked her body in his direction provocatively. She pivoted about, turning her back momentarily, then swung around again, facing him. Ricky took in the entirety of her figure in a single glance, eyes working like a photographer’s camera, capturing her breasts, her sex, her long legs, and then finally returning to her eyes. These glowed with anticipation.
    “See, Ricky,” she said softly, “you’re not so old. Can’t you feel blood rushing about inside you? A little stirring between the legs, no? I have quite a figure, don’t I?” She giggled once. “You don’t have to answer. I’m well aware of the response. I’ve seen it before, in other men.”
    Her eyes continued to lock onto his own, as if insisting that she could control the direction his vision took.
    “There’s always this wondrous moment, Ricky,” Virgil said, grinning widely, “when a man first takes in the